


SIDE B: ghost dorks in PAIN

by phantomgasm



Series: two halfas make a whole (idiot) [2]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Beta Read, One Shot Collection, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26239810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomgasm/pseuds/phantomgasm
Summary: UPDATE: i decided to split my oneshots into two separate sections, so that those who prefer fluff and dont like angst can avoid reading it all together.This is the more whumpy half of my oneshots, so please read the authors notes for TWS be warned that ALL of these fics will have some amount of angst in them.
Relationships: Danny Fenton/Vlad Masters
Series: two halfas make a whole (idiot) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017841
Comments: 74
Kudos: 211





	1. family dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Vlad wants is to have a nice dinner with his loving family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for:
> 
> > murder  
> > gore  
> > cannibalism  
> > kidnapping  
> > starvation  
> > death  
> > kinda noncon touching but not really

Wood scrapes against itself, a chair being pulled out as the man at the head of the table stands. Every other person, who'd already been uneasy, stiffens. Danny's eyes remain glued to the plate before him. Cold, old meat, smelling more and more delicious every day despite having been untouched for so long. The chain attached to the cuff on his wrist dangles.

Footsteps grow closer, expensive shoes clicking loudly against the polished floor. Across from him, Danny watches his mother's wary violet eyes follow their captor. Jazz's head hangs, shoulders slumped, likely aching as much as Danny's spine is. His mouth is dry, captor having refused to refill his cup until he finishes his meal. They've each eaten their vegetables, tasted their mashed potatoes, sipped at their water. But at the thought of consuming the meat, Maddie all but vomited on the floor, spilling her contents for both children to see.

A weight makes itself known on the boy's shoulders. Spider-like fingers rest on them, thumbs massaging circles into his strained muscles. Danny doesn't relax at this. He swallows thickly, feeling breaths lightly pushing at the hairs atop of his head.

"Vlad," Maddie says. Her voice is warning, despite having no power of the man in question. They lost any sense of control once they stepped into this cabin; might as well of signed their mortal souls away to the devil.

Their captor ignores her. Vlad leans down, nose nearly touching Danny's crown. "You're hungry," he notes, and he's right. Stabbing pains erupt from the teen's noisy stomach, fingers aching to touch the silver fork laid beside the plate. Jazz finally lifts, eyes burning holes into his skull. Lips moving to silently say _don't you dare._

"Humans can last about thirty to forty days without food, if given proper hydration," Vlad plucks the empty glass from the table, holding it Shakespearean, though the thought of a skull in their captor's hands is sickening. "Without water, however, they can only last three or four days. And you, little badger," the glass is set back down, "ran out yesterday."

Even if they do eat, Danny knows they're going to die here. Vlad will pick them off one by one, licking his knife clean of their blood. The empty chair to the left of Danny is evidence of that, as well as the room temperature meat on his plate.

Vlad's hand feels warm as it slips under the collar of his shirt, stopping above his heart. Maddie shakily asks him what he's doing, but the man's focus won't go to her. Surprising, considering she's supposed to play the wife role, Vlad the husband, Jazz the daughter, and Danny the son. Families eat together.

Fathers expect their sons to follow in their shoes.

"Your heart is racing, my dear boy," Vlad purrs, keeping his hand beneath the cloth. Danny barely notices it. All he can think about is how hungry he is, and how very few inches there are between his fingers and the fork. "How long until it stops?"

Starvation is such a long, painful way to die. Via organ failure or heart attack. Wasting away to nothing but bones and tremors isn't exactly how Danny wants to go. At first he was fighting, planning, making his moves so that he and his family could escape. Then Jack died. Jazz stopped talking, and Maddie told him they should just...do what Vlad wants of them to survive. Danny was far from wanting to please that man, but...

"Do you really want to find that out?"

No, Danny decides, hand shooting forward to take the silverware and pierce it into his father's flesh. Screams fill the room, of Jazz trying to convince Danny to stop, of his name on Maddie's horrified lips. But once he's moving, he's _moving,_ and that cold meat tastes wonderful on his tongue. He cries without tears, too dehydrated to produce any kind of liquid, as he chews the remains of Jack Fenton.

Vlad presses his palm to Danny's throat, not squeezing but feeling as the boy swallows down cooked human flesh. Pleased, the older man presses a kiss to Danny's crown as the boy shovels bite after bite into his mouth, sitting back in his chair to watch the broken boy consume what is left of his father. "He will do what it takes to survive," Vlad says, gaze finally turning to the women of the group. "Will you?"

Soon after Danny's done eating, the man leaves the room. Pitcher of water in hand, he returns, keys dangling from the loop on his dress pants. With shaking hands, Danny swallows every drop of water given to him, guiltily avoiding the pain filled eyes of his sister and mother.

"Daniel," Vlad places his hands behind his back. "What do you say, when someone makes a nice meal for you?"

Forcing down his rage, Danny responds through gritted teeth: "Thank you."

"Thank you, _what?"_

Jazz is glaring at him again. Danny is teetering on a line, playing with fire. In his mind, he begs her for forgiveness. "Thank you, father."

Now he knows she loathes him, that he's no longer welcome under the Fenton name. Vlad unlocks his handcuffs, but he knows he isn't safe. A firm hand takes him away from the table, guiding him down several halls. They don't go to the basement Vlad first kept them in, where he made them watch Jack's demise. Danny thinks they're going to, when they start approaching the door, but Vlad steers them away from it and upstairs, much to the boy's relief.

His captor unlocks a door, one that strongly resembles something you would see in a prison. Whereas all the other doors are wooden, this one is metal. There's a small slit in the door too high for Danny to look through, eye level with Vlad, and a keypad to keep him from escaping. The door opens, and Danny walks in willingly.

To the left is a small bed, to the right, a bathtub, sink, and toilet. No windows, no way for the person inside to switch on the light.

Danny turns to his captor, who's standing in the doorway. "If you continue to be obedient, this room will be nothing but a memory," Vlad's eyes follow the boy as he sits on the edge of the bed, testing the uncomfortable matress that feels like heaven's clouds after being stuck to a wooden chair for so long, "Sleep well, little badger. Your father loves you dearly."

Ae he's consumed by never ending darkness, Danny wonders if that statement is true.

The meat in his stomach feels like cement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T KILL ME I WAS IN THE MOOD TO WRITE HORROR AND THIS JUST POPPED UP IN MY BRAIN 
> 
> I finished watching Hannibal a few weeks ago, so consider this inspired by that. Ya'll who wanted soft Vlad have gotten your two chapters, it's time for me to feed (ha) anyone who wanted more evil Vlad. Come get ya'll juice.


	2. the places i find you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're trapped in time.
> 
> But at least they're trapped together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for suicidal behavior, suicidal ideation, etc.
> 
> This *could* be considered underage, but not...really? Danny is an adult, but immortality kinda fucks that up.

_Rooftop_

On the rooftop of Amity's tallest building. Of course it belongs to Vlad, who knows nothing but _go big or go home._ The boy is standing at the edge, white hair illuminated by the moonlight. There's not a ghost in sight, save for Phantom and Plasmius. No schemes have been planned today, either. Not a single reason for Daniel to be gracing Vlad with his presence, sneaking onto one of his business' rooftops at one in the morning. Except maybe to let out some frustration, but somehow, Vlad knows this isn't that.

White feet pitter patter along the edge of the building, gloved arms extending outward to help the teen keep his balance. Daniel turned nineteen two weeks ago, yet he doesn't look a day older than his death. That's kind of what being in limbo does to you- Vlad's starting to get looks, people at his side informing him of how young he looks. He's sure Daniel gets the same.

In the boy's graduation photos, he's swimming in his gown. They had to specially order one small enough to fit Daniel, Jack told him, and even then, it had been a little too big. Everyone in his photos towers over him, their faces having sculpted out and their bodies having matured in ways Daniel's hasn't. Vlad can relate; Jack's got natural gray hairs now, and the corners of Maddie's eyes are decorated with crow's feet.

Yet without his beard and gray hair, Vlad doesn't look a day over twenty five.

"Little badger?"

Daniel has to have noticed him, with his ghost-sense and all. Should have sensed him long before he made himself known. Vlad's certain he did, even if he only turns to acknowledge him now.

"Sup?"

Flabbergasted, Vlad gawks, "Do not _sup_ me! What are you doing here?"

Returning his gaze to the horizon line- or perhaps lower, but Vlad doesn't want to think about that, not with the strange sinking feeling that builds in his stomach- Daniel says, "Sight seeing."

With a roll of his scarlet eyes, Vlad responds, "And you just happen to be doing so on my building?"

"S' the tallest one. Gives me the best view."

Yes, it is the tallest building in Amity. Vlad knows that too well. He's spent many nights on the edge of that building, calculating the speed at which a person would fall, had their foot so carelessly slipped. Imagining the sound of cracking bone on asphalt, of an end he isn't sure he'd be graced with seeing. Would he be gone, or would his memories simply disappear? Would he leave Daniel all together, or end up making him stuck with a Plasmius who doesn't remember him, who's attacking and killing with the same mindless obsession that the other ghosts do?

Those thoughts were the only ones that kept him from finding out whether or not their immortality is truly that, or simply an inability to age. Can they not die, or are they simply stuck in time?

"...Fine." Vlad sits, swinging his legs over the edge of the building. In his ghost form, he'll be able to keep himself from plummeting to the sidewalk below.

Stopping his venture along the line between safety and death, Daniel"s brows furrow. "What are you doing?"

"Sight seeing."

For a brief moment, they're simply in each other's presence. Only their breathing breaks the silence, and the faint sound of wind. Wordlessly, Daniel disappears, flying off into the night. Leaving Vlad alone, as he normally is.

_Train tracks_

Teenagers near train tracks are a common trope in coming of age films. Vlad isn't quite sure why, he supposes the aesthetic of someone walking along them is nice when the tracks are _abandoned,_ but when they aren't, the sight is nothing but worrying.

And there Daniel lays, right smack in the center of them. He has to know that the train, while far enough off that Vlad has time to swoop down and tell him to get off of his ass, is coming his direction. He would have seen it while flying above. There's no way he can't know.

Vlad lowers from the clouds down to the trees, feet landing on the ground beside the tracks. Again, Daniel doesn't speak first. This time his eyes are very clearly fixated on the stars above, entire body relaxed. Like he was merely stargazing, laying on the side of a grassy hill, with flowers in the wind rather than the high pitched sound of a train not far off. Underneath them, the ground rumbles, and Vlad decides that waiting around for Daniel to stop being an idiot isn't an option anymore

Yanking the boy out of the tracks, he shouts, "Have you gone mad?!"

Everything about this situation is worrying, from the neutral face he's met with to the sickening memory of Daniel tip toeing along the edge of a building. No, his face isn't neutral. Vlad sees now that it's numb, eyes void of emotion. Daniel's wrist feels cold in his hands, which would be clammy with sweat, had he been in his human form.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" Vlad doesn't often swear; such language is childish and inappropriate in most situations. In this one, he feels it is very much warranted to get across his emotions, which are so intense he feels as though he is both burning alive and freezing to death at the same time. Is his core malfunctioning? Can Daniel feel it?

The teenager shrugs "Playing chicken."

Heaving heavy, short breaths, Vlad is stuck between blinding rage and bone trembling fear. Of course he chooses the anger. Anger is familiar, anger is safe. "Your stupidity is going to get yourself killed," he hisses through his fangs.

Daniel leans in close, so much so that their noses are nearly brushing against each other. "Will it?"

And there's that cold again, like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head. There's still anger, but it's slipping through his fingers, much like the younger halfa is. Vlad watches Daniel leave again, cape flicking rapidly as the train shoots past him.

_Road_

From far enough that he won't be sensed, Vlad watches.

His eyes follow the black mop of hair that belongs to his favorite Fenton travel down the sidewalks of Amity. He remembers a time where the boy would have two more at his side, ready to jump into battle and protect him at any cost. Now those friends have moved on, developed their own lives. Humans do that. Ghosts don't.

Halfas, much like their existence, are somewhere in between. They have their lives, they have hobbies and jobs outside of their haunts. And yet, they continue to repeat the same sort of things over and over again. Vlad works his businesses, cares for his cat, trains, and balances hobbies like reading or going out. Amongst all of that, what makes him feel the most alive are his fights with Daniel, are his ghostly obsessions.

Vlad feels that tightening in his gut again when the boy turns left, jaywalking into the street. Instead of crossing over completely, he plops down in the middle of the empty road, invisible but not intangible.

Jaw setting, Vlad sinks down to the boy. He hopes this doesn't become one of Daniel's receptive behaviors. "You're starting to worry me, little badger."

"Why?" This time, Daniel doesn't look numb, nor empty. Tears gloss over his pretty eyes, lids puffy and red. Sniffling, he glares up at Vlad, wiping his nose off with his sleeve.

"Because you're deliberately putting yourself in dangerous situations, ones that cannot be excused with your hero-play."

Daniel scoffs. "That's not what I meant." Then, craning his head so that he may look over his shoulder, searching for...something. A car, probably. Not to see if it's coming in precaution, but for another reason Vlad would not like to put into words. "Why do you care?"

_Because you're the closest thing I have to a relationship, because you're the only person who's ever shown to genuinely care about me in years,_ Vlad thinks, _because I'd be all alone without you, and the thought of losing you is so maddening that I have to drink just to get the idea out of my head._

There's no way that Vlad can verbalize these feelings. Fumbling with his words, he attempts to, tongue too fat to comply with his thoughts. Daniel watches him start and stop sentence fragments, fists clenching and unclenching with his growing frustration. All Vlad can come up with is a pitiful, "...I need you."

"If I'm dead, I'm sure you can use my body to make another dumb clone. In fact, I'll even help you. We can go to your lab right now." Daniel stands and while Vlad is relieved to see him so willing to leave the road, it's for all the wrong reasons.

"No."

"What do you mean, _no?_ I'm literally giving you exactly what you want!"

Shaking his hear, Vlad sighs. "You aren't." His hand reaches out to touch that face, the one that's been plaguing him with worrying dreams, but Daniel flinches away. It drops by his side, weakly. "They wouldn't be you."

Setting his jaw, Daniel looks over him, reading him like a book. Only the boy has ever been able to do that, has been able to see him, to understand him in ways no one else could. Then he's coming forward again, but this time he isn't stopping. Their lips press together in a light, chaste kiss, before Daniel is gone again.

_Bed_

Beside him, Daniel is laying on his side, twirling Vlad's long hair between his fingers. The man's just woken up, to the sun coming in through the slight crack in the drapes, laying over his younger companion's body. Vlad wonders if this is morally acceptable, before he decides he doesn't care. He'll let whatever God or Devil that made him college-aged forever decide that for him.

At least he turned immortal after gaining the legality to drink. Daniel will forever be told his ID, which is technically correct in his age, is a lie. Because there's no way an adult can look do young, right? Humans don't know how good they have it. Vlad will never be able to kiss his partner in public, can never openly take him on dates. Daniel is going to be treated as a child when he's thirty, will have to look in the mirror and see someone barely in puberty every morning.

Vlad rolls over to meet Daniel's gaze. How long can they stay in Amity, with their condition? How many times can they safely build a new identity, before someone catches on? When will they eventually have to try and find a home in the ghost zone?

Hopefully after the death of Daniel's family. He can't imagine how hard it would be, to not at least be able to say goodbye to his loved ones. Maybe Daniel isn't a funeral person. Who knows.

"How do you make the hurt go away?" Daniel asks, looking so much like he had on that street.

Scooting closer, Vlad takes Daniel's head and tucks it underneath his chin. "I don't know," he answers, honestly, because the teen is too old to appreciate pretty lies. "But maybe we can find out, together."

Immortality is cruel. Life will go on without them, will leave them behind. Vlad's known this for a long time, and only really accepted it when he realized how much Maddie had aged at Daniel's graduation. And how little both himself and the boy had.

Daniel probably saw it in his friend's college applications, in the boxes he helped unpack into dorms and the lack of hair on his body. He didn't have the luxury of living in denial like Vlad had, because while Vlad was a young adult when his ageing process stopped, Daniel was not. Daniel was in a crucial part of his development, where everyone was telling him about bodily changes he'll never experience.

They're trapped in time.

But at least they're trapped together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't seen too many people addressing the idea of Vlad and Danny being immortal and the absolute angst that can come from it, so I decided to do so myself. Really, it would be totally fucked if they couldn't age. But it's a great concept for writing, sooo. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one! Sorry I cannot write anything without at least a little bit of angst.


	3. Armstrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "they- they're hurt, Jazzie, they're hurt."
> 
> Stomach twisting at the familiarity of his voice, she sits her brother down, and dials 911.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another horror story, and it gets PRETTY graphic. Please take the warnings seriously:
> 
> > murder  
> > gore  
> > animal murder  
> > bed wetting (dont know if i gotta tw this but just in case)  
> > age gap (danny is 14 and vlad is 18 in this)  
> > child neglect (mostly emotional)  
> > stalking  
> > probably ooc like all my other stories lol  
> > and other things i might've missed

_"Jazz, Jazz!"_

Eight year old Jasmine Fenton is sitting on the floor in the living room, when she hears the loud screaming of her name. Her little feet lift her from her puzzle and quickly take her outside, to where her baby brother is collapsed on the ground in the backyard. In his arms lay Armstrong, his pet albino rat, though the pet's white hair is more of a maroon color now.

Gaping at the sight of blood, Jazz takes Danny by the shoulders and asks him what happened.

"I- he- he wasn't in his cage," sniffles the six year old, "I was lookin' for him, n'...n' he was out here. He's hurt, Jazzie, he's hurt"

The girl may only be a child, but she knows Armstrong isn't exactly hurt. That limp creature in her brother's arms is dead, it's body twisted and mangled horribly having lost too much blood to ever have hopes of living. She knows of death from school, when they spoke of decomposition, and her parent's uneasy face as they answered her questions. It hadn't upset her, then. People die and then their bodies feed the soil while their souls become ghosts. Makes sense.

Except she hadn't seen the gore, hadn't witnessed the loss that comes with death. Danny's barely six, only associates crimson with scraped knees and juice pops. To see his beloved pet so marred, like someone had taken it and twisted, _and twisted,_ until it's spine broke and it's guts were squeezed out of it's mouth like some disgusting toothpaste tube...

It's face grinded, appearing as though someone had repeatedly dragged it over and over again on the concrete...

"Mama," Jazz calls, hands shaking, unsure as to what to do, other than to rub her little brother's back. "Mama, Daddy!"

When the adults finally make it outside, Maddie shrieks in horror and lifts her son into her arms, the rats body flopping in his tight, tiny fist. Jack gags at the sight as he tries to console his crying children, taking the pet from Danny so that they can bring it inside.

Maddie is quick to clean her youngest child's hands, which he insists aren't clean until they're raw and red. Jazz watches her father wrap Armstrong in paper towels, explaining in a nervous, hushed tone that sometimes, creatures die. That Armstrong must've gotten out of his cage, and some hungry animal mistook him for food. "We'll have a funeral for him, so he can go to heaven," Jack says, even though everyone in the family knows he doesn't believe in that kind of thing.

Danny buys it though, which is the most important. The girl knows her brother is more fragile than her, extremely and easily attached to those he considers family. And to him, Armstrong _was_ family, so she plays with him a whole lot the following days. Making sure to let him chose what game, of course. Forcing Danny into dresses so she can have tea parties won't make him feel any better after the loss of a pet.

Two weeks later, more animals show up injured. Usually around their house; one was found in the road, though it was a frog and looked as though it had been crushed, so they all assumed it was roadkill. But then came neighborhood cats, torn apart bugs, and even a few dogs. The adults of the neighborhood were convinced some ruthless teenagers were torturing animals for fun, and to be safe, Jack told the kids that he and Maddie were abandoning their idea of buying them a new pet.

"Just until things settle down," he said, as Danny clutched his sister's hand comfortingly.

The seemingly random killing of animals subsided, though it never went away completely. Jazz catches Danny washing his hands a lot, usually so much that she can see his face twist into pain. She tries to stop him then, but he murmurs that they're _dirty_ and continues until she has to bandage them up. Their parents buy him a set of white gloves that he never removes, ones he uses to keep himself clean. It's weird to see a boy so young become a germaphobe, but Jazz thinks she might've too if she got rat guts all over her.

When Danny's nine, she catches him carrying his sheets to the washing machine in the dead of the night, along with his pajama pants and underwear. "Did you... _wet_ yourself?" She jokingly asks, because surely he's much too old to be having problems such as those, right?

But he turns to her, tears streaming down his face and eyelids puffy, and she instantly feels guilty. Jazz takes the large sheet from her brother's hands and helps him prepare the washer, assuring him that nightmares can cause bed wetting and tells he should avoid drinking too much before falling asleep. "What was the dream about?"

"...I don't remember."

He's lying. All her psychology magazines would say so. His blue eyes refuse to meet her's, his feet are turned in uncomfortably, and his lower lip finds it's way between his teeth. But she doesn't want to press, because he'll only get angry and pull further from her, so she promises to keep his _accident_ between them and bids him goodnight.

But then it becomes a problem. Some nights he would crawl into her bed crying, then end up soiling them both after another nightmare. Others she would wake and he would be in the shower, scrubbing at his hands, his arms, his legs.

Their parents take him to a doctor when they find out, and he gets put on medication that stops the bedwetting. It doesn't stop the nightmares, but Danny refuses to speak of them, so there isn't much they can do there.

When Danny is twelve, he starts getting in trouble at school. According to her mother's scolding late into the night, Danny's been starting fights, and the teachers are worried about his...anti-social behavior. Jazz has never thought of her brother as such, and honestly just pegged him for being shy. He likes spending time with her still, and doesn't reject being taken out by their parents or stay in his room all day.

Honestly, she's just happy he's stopped wearing those gloves.

Teachers, however, say otherwise. At a parent-teacher-meeting, which she sat through out of worry for her little sibling, the woman with a large nose and oily bun spoke of Danny not only being uncooperative with other students, but downright aloof.

"Everyone needs friends, Dann-o," Jack tells his son on the car ride home, bright eyes meeting his through the rearview mirror.

"The other kids don't like me," Danny mutters, and Jazz gives him a sympathetic smile. She isn't exactly bullied at school, but she doesn't have too many friends, either. Being a _smart kid_ means dealing with the jealousy of other girls, who are more ruthless than one would think.

Maddie, on the other hand, seems less than convinced. "I'm sure that's not true," and begins her long parental speech Jazz knows Danny is tuning out.

When Danny's thirteen, he meets Sam and Tucker, and the three quickly become inseparable. Jazz doesn't think she's heard her brother so verbal in years, happily listening to him squeal over video games in the room adjacent to her own.

Tucker's into more nerdy stuff like Danny, so they spend most of their time in doors playing with model toys and making mods for their games. Sam, on the other hand, prefers to pull the boys outside, herself an activist for animal rights and wanting to get the boys involved.

Jazz thinks it's a good thing that someone's finally managing to get her brother out and about, especially when it has to do with the subject matter Sam is pushing. Maybe rallying for animals rights will help Danny feel better about Armstrong, and the many animals he'd find dead in their back yard as children

It happens when Sam demands the boys come with her to one of her rallies, this one being over the poor treatment of animals in their local pound. Danny doesn't like seeing animals in pain, not after Armstrong, so he agrees; Tucker doesn't want to be left out, leaving him to follow along. Jazz tells them to be home before dinner and sends them off with some cash she got from Maddie, who's been spending the entirety of the day down in the lab with Jack.

Neither of the Fenton children are certain of what goes on down there. They know their parents experiment a lot, and that they get paid by random people they'd have to leave on trips to go pick up to do so. But both Jack and Maddie are insistent that their kids are too young to know they do, claiming it to be _adult stuff_ they'll understand when they're older.

Jazz has always been more curious of the whereabouts of her parents than her brother. It used to be the other way around; she remembers specifically a time where she'd walked downstairs to see a four year old Danny being scolded by their parents, with a tear stricken face, because he'd snuck into the lab.

Ever since that day, though, Danny has wanted nothing to do with his parent's work. Even being told to go _near_ the lab's door causes him to grow irritable and jumpy, and being the wonderful older sister Jazz is, she's made sure to keep hie contact with said area to a minimum. Anything his parents might need while down there- some lunch because they've forgotten, or maybe Jazz needs permission to order takeout for dinner- can be achieved herself. No need to get Danny involved and have to deal with him crawling into her bed all shaken at night.

Later the same day, Jazz is flipping through their stack of coupons, trying to decide where to order dinner from, when she hears Danny arrive home. "Hey, you're just in time to help me pick out dinner," she chirps, only for her lighthearted mood to fall at the sight of her brother.

His knees are scrapped and bloody, he's hunched over, and his breathing has dipped into erratic. Placing the papers aside, Jazz takes her brother's chin and forces him to meet her eyes. "Match my breathing. In, out, in, and out," she says, taking deep breaths through her nose and out through her mouth.

Danny complies, slowly calming, face regaining it's color. Smoothing over his hair, "There we go, much better. What's gotten you all shaken?"

"Sam and Tucker are hurt," he whispers, clinging to her like he'll fall through the floor if he doesn't, "they- they're hurt, Jazzie, they're hurt."

Stomach twisting at the familiarity of his voice, she sits her brother down, and dials 911.

Sam has a funeral. Everyone's dressed in black, just like she would've wanted, and the flowers in her casket are all shades of dark colors. Danny brings her black dahlias; Jazz knows the girl would've loved them. Sam's face is covered by white silk, because no amount of makeup and cleaning could fix how disfigured her face had been.

Murders don't happen in Amity Park. Ghost stories? Dumb teens bringing Ouija boards to Nasty Burger? Yes, and yes. But a real human, mauling two thirteen year olds?

Tucker doesn't have a funeral. His parents weren't taking his death very well. Danny buries Tucker's PS4 controller, which he'd left at their home, in the backyard instead. Right next to Armstrong, who still gets strawberries placed on his grave every holiday.

If Danny hadn't been very social before his friends, then he's damn near isolating after them. Jazz has to bring his meals up to him, because he spends a good portion of his time cocooned in his blankets. At the suggestion of meeting new people, he firmly states that everyone should stay as far away from him as possible. Afraid that they might endure the horrible fates that others so important to Danny had come to meet.

He even starts to push Jazz away, who is far from allowing it to happen. The boy can't exactly avoid her, being she _lives_ with him, and while she wants to give him the proper alone time someone in the grieving process might need, she also doesn't want him to isolate himself. Her solution is to force family dinners upon the house, her parents agreeing out of worry for their son and Danny only agreeing because if he didn't, they'd eat in his room the last thing anyone wants is ants in their bed from dinner crumbs.

Danny turns fourteen, and finally, he mentions quietly that he's going to have a friend over and that everyone is to be on their best behavior. Jazz is _very_ interested in this friend; Danny hadn't been so anxious when introducing Sam and Tucker. "Are you sure this is just a friend, Danny?" Jazz teases, pleased when her brother's face turns a cute shade of pink.

"Yes!" He snaps, though deja vu hits her when he refuses to meet her eyes. "He's just- he's...different. He's really shy and probably won't talk much, and he has, what did you call it? PTSD?"

Jazz remembers the conversation she had with her parents well. Immediately after his friends' death, those childhood problems of night terrors and bed wetting returned. Not only that, but Danny now sports another pair of gloves, to keep his hands clean. His showers are exceedingly long, as well as the increased amount of times he washes his hands. To top it all off, on the loop of his jeans, he keeps a travel-sized hand sanitizer.

She told them he's likely got PTSD, and that he should start seeing a councilor. They said they would consider it, but it's been months since then.

"Anyways," Danny continues, "he wears this mask thingy like I do my gloves. And he doesn't like being touched by or talking to strangers. So please, _please_ don't be annoying."

"We won't," she assures, glaring at her parents who are very obviously a little too excited about their son's new playmate, _"right?"_

Nodding, Maddie straightens, fixing her husband with the _calm down, sweetie,_ look. "Right."

What none of them expect is for Danny's friend to be a senior, four years older than the boy himself. Jazz isn't too surprised, the three of them are all in highschool, but it is a little strange considering there's no way barely-passing, club-avoiding Danny shares any classes with the older teen. But upon meeting him, who's a head taller than herself, she just smiles and welcomes him inside.

And ignores how obviously strange he is. Teenagers don't wear button ups, black vests, and red ties to a friend's house. And while Jazz was expecting the mask, she _hadn't_ expected it to be a store-bought Halloween mask. The thing is a sickly blue, has red tinted plastic over the eyes, and a pair of fangs attached to the slit made for breathing.

Danny introduces the older boy as Vlad, and explains that they'd met over one of Danny's internet games. With their parents out for the time being, Jazz prepares lunch for the three of them, the boys returning to Danny's room.

Vlad doesn't have _shy kid energy,_ as one might put it. Yes, hes entirely mute and allows Danny to speak for him, but he does not cower nor does he hide. He stands by his friend's side with a stance of confidence, tilting his chin to look down upon Jazz through his mask. She tells herself not to be so assuming and rude, but the way his knuckles turn white while holding Danny's hand upon entering the home, and the way he casts her one last look before shutting her brother's door with a tiny bit of force, causes every bone in her body to scream _danger._

No part of her wants to leave Danny alone with this kid, who her gut instincts are begging her to kick out. But she shoves those feelings away, not wanting to ruin her little brother's attempts to make new friends after something so horrible happened.

When their parents arrive home, Danny comes downs stairs with Vlad in tow. The older boy is still clutching his hand, and while his stance is still intimidating, there's an added something or other. An emotion she can't quite place, one that causes him to pull Danny closer once he sets eyes on the adult Fentons.

"Hey there, kiddo," Jack stretches a hand out to the boy, mildly surprised at the height of the teen. Vlad is still shorter than her father, but only by a few inches, which Jack isn't used to. "What's your name?"

"Vlad," Danny answers for his friend, who doesn't meet the hand that was offered to him, the one that's now frozen in the air. Jack's eyes widen ever so slightly at the name, and the hand drops to his side. "No touching, remember?"

With a wobbly grin, Jack responds, "right," and the three of them head off to the kitchen. Maddie has a similar reaction to Vlad, though she seems less friendly to him than Jack was. The oldest teen doesn't look like he minds, sitting beside Danny at the dinner table while still digging his nails into the other boy's hand, but Jazz can't tell with that mask in the way.

Just like how he was when he arrived, Vlad is silent throughout dinner. Danny answers any and all questions for him, occasionally sending him _looks_ and _touches_ , that cause Vlad to respond with his own _looks_ and _touches._ It's like they've developed their own language.

At some point, Maddie asks the question they're all wondering, but know damn well it's too rude to ask: "If you don't mind explaining, why are you wearing that mask?"

If Vlad could get anymore rigid, he does in that moment. Danny shoots a glare at the woman, but his friend places a hand on his shoulder and leans in, whispering something through the slit in his mask. Jazz picks nervously at her food as Danny responds quietly, "Are you sure? Alright."

"Vlad had a run-in with the guy who...y'know," Danny explains, fumbling with his hands. "It's how we met. I was talking about _them,"_ by now, everyone in the Fenton household knows who _them_ is. Sam and Tucker, who aren't to be spoken by name near Danny. "And Vlad...he understood. He's the only one who's managed to escape."

Both of their parents visibly relax at this, which only ruffles Jazz's feathers more. How could they look so relieved that a boy near their son's age had been horribly maimed by some serial killer? Danny quickly changes the subject, though, and Vlad's eyes drill holes into their parent's heads.

Before the two boys can hide back in Danny's room, Jack asks one last question. "We...had these old college friends, and their son was named Vlad. Do you happen to know him?"

Jazz blinks, confused, and Danny scoffs while dragging his friend away, "Do _you_ know everyone named Jackson?"

And that was the end of that, for a while.

More teenagers go missing. Oddly enough, these ones hadn't been like Sam or Tucker. They're always a larger, black haired boy and a curvy girl with mousy ginger. When found, their faces are torn to bloody shreds, completely unrecognizable. Now, Danny and Jazz aren't allowed to leave the house on their own, the two of them fitting the descriptions of the missing teens a bit too well for their parents' comfort.

Danny becomes attached to Vlad quick. If they aren't hold up in his room, Danny's sneaking out to see him, or over at his house. Jazz is certain they're a little more than friends now, with the purple marks Danny hides poorly under turtlenecks and scarves. It makes her a little queasy- sure it's only a four year age gap, but that's still...Vlad's still eighteen. There's a huge mental difference between someone just starting puberty and someone on their way to exiting it.

But at the same time, she doesn't want to discourage Danny exploring his sexuality, or romance, for that matter. So she sits him down and has the _safe sex_ talk and gives him all the information about toxic relationships and power imbalances she can find. Vlad may treat her brother nice enough to her face, but behind her back, she isn't sure. Which means she'll have to make sure her little brother is as educated as possible on these subjects, and let him know that he can always come to her if Vlad's not who he seems.

At some point it hits her that their parents should be doing this, not her. However, she can't bring herself to trust them to do that. It's always been like this, Danny's always been more _her_ kid than _their's_ _._ She loves them, but to actually imagine them parenting their kid instead of spending every hour they can in the lab is kind of hard.

Danny turns fifteen not long after she meets Vlad, and his nightmares...aren't getting better. She thought they were, considering a severe lack of little brother in her bed, but she comes to find that, rather than come to her, he's now calling Vlad. Which is discomforting for a few reasons. One, because she feels as though he no longer trusts her enough to come to her, as he never wanted to discuss the contents of his nightmares in the first place, and two...

...Is the fact that when she sneaks into the laundry room while he's sleeping, there aren't sheets in the washer being cleaned of urine. No, what she sees is a set of gloves, _Danny's_ white gloves, stained crimson red. The exact color her little brother hates.

The one that had dripped from his fingers while he held his childhood pet's corpse.

Pressing her ear to the bathroom door, she listens to Danny's quiet sobs. He's whimpering to himself, words she can't make out over the sound of water beating heavily down onto the tub. "Danny," her knuckles tremble as they knock on the door, "Danny, are you okay?"

"M' fine," is what she gets, but the next time he's out with Vlad, she scours through his room and finds the remains of several white rats hidden underneath his bed.

Among those faceless, Armstrong-like corpses, are...microchips. A security system of some kind, and hidden underneath a NASA flag draped over the shelf on her brother's wall, is a camera.

Future serial killers have several traits, many of which include bed wetting, anti-social behavior, and the harm of animals. There's also the arson factor, but Danny hasn't shown any particular interest in fire. In fact, she remembers quite well the year they went on a camping trip and their father attempted to teach him how to start a fire, only for the boy to run away and hide behind Jazz in fear.

So, that's a bit of a relief. Especially since most of these symptoms are _also_ connected to trauma in childhood. While Danny has never experienced abuse, their home life was never stable, with their parents being mostly absent and frequently fighting. That added to the violent death of animals that were dropped off in their yard, including one he was particularly attached to, could cause issues. Especially with his friends' recent murder.

But... _who_ killed all those animals, and why dump them in their yard? It makes no sense. While they were considered to be the less popular kids, and somewhat picked on, things never went past gossip on Jazz's end and swirlies on Danny's. Those kids just wanted to get some anger out in the only way they knew how, they didn't actually want to traumatize anyone.

So, who?

Danny could've. Those animals showing up in the bushes of their backyard would make much more sense if a child were trying to hide them. But a _six year old?_ Danny was barely above toddler age when it all started! Squeezing his pet rat to death, sure, that's plausible. Kids sometimes don't understand how fragile creatures can be. The repeated stabbing, and face distorting of cats, small dogs, and rodents? How? Danny couldn't have even reached the block that stores their kitchen knives at that age! He can _barely_ reach it now!

Jazz sits herself down at her desk, not wanting to think of the implications of the dead rats under her brother's bed. And what's with the obvious creepy-stalker cam? Did Vlad put that there? Could he be trying to frame Danny for his crimes? It's possible, but then what about his face? Perhaps it's a cover up? She's never seen his face before, to be able to confirm if it's scarred up or not.

Now she's left wondering what she should do. Who she should tell. Jazz isn't even sure what's really going on here, and whoever's behind those cameras has most certainly seen her.

She quickly rules out the police as a viable option. They would just terrify Danny into confessing a crime he might not have committed. That leaves her parents, which won't be home for the next three days, being they're on one of their trips. Maybe she could send them a text, tell them to come home as quick as possible? Or a phonecall.

No, they wouldn't respond. She already texted them that morning, and got nothing, because they likely have no phone reception where they are. Still, she sends them a _message me as soon as you can,_ hopeful. Jazz will never be afraid of her little brother, and even if he did something bad, she's confident she'll be able to get through to him. If not, she's much taller and stronger than him. Plus she'll be keeping her cellphone on her at all times, and the door will be locked.

Most importantly, they aren't allowed to have company over when their parents are out. Meaning Vlad will not be present, at least, not by invitation. All she has to worry about is keeping her and Danny safe for the weekend. Should be easy enough. She'll need to do is lock all the doors and windows- she checks each one at least three times, the last being the backyard door, to make sure she didn't forget- and hold the anti-creep stick her father made tight to her chest.

Jazz paces around her bedroom, after having moved her tall dresser in front of the window. Every little sound in the house is making her a paranoid wreck. Danny's not acting out of place, though he starts to get more weirded out the more she goes to check up on him. Eventually she finds herself sitting in his room, watching him play video games, and he's worriedly looking over his shoulder.

Little sleep comes to her the first night. At the closing of her eyes, her brain supplies her with a picture of Vlad, and his stupid vampire mask, holding the mutilated corpse of her baby brother. She wakes up sobbing at the one time she actually manages to hit REM sleep, clutching Danny to her chest. The boy tries to soothe her like she would him, even going so far as to kiss her forehead despite usually having the whole _ew I'm a teen boy and I hate affection_ thing going on.

After the second day, she calms down a bit. Jack and Maddie would be home early in the morning tomorrow. They're pretty much safe.

This is what she tells herself, when Danny hands her a cup of soda and sips from his own.

This is what she tells herself, when she takes their cups to the kitchen sink, leaving the anti-creep stick with Danny, just in case.

And it's what she stops telling herself, when a hand too big to be her brother's forces a wet rag over her mouth and nose.

Jazz screams into the thing, struggling as she's yanked to the floor and into someone's chest. All too familiar, that vampire mask pushes into her cheek, the hand still clamped tightly over the bottom half of her face. One arm winds around her waist, forcing her against the body behind her's, as she wenches her head around to try and knock the lights out of Vlad.

The last thing she sees before her vision grows spots of black, is the fact that the door to their backyard is wide open.

.

..

...

A set of blueish green eyes reopen to the ceiling of her parents' laboratory. Her ankles and wrists are chained to the metal table she's seen a few dead animals on before, all of which were being dissected for medical purposes, she assumed. Her heart is racing in her chest, hammering so loudly in her ears that it takes her a moment to finally hear the voices speaking in a hushed tone.

In the corner of the lab, just before the stairs, stands Vlad. Mask off, and face covered in relatively old looking scars. He's cupping Danny's head in his hands, their foreheads pressed together as tears stream down the younger boy's face.

"I can't, I can't, not her," whimpers her brother between the light kisses pressed to his lips, "anybody but her."

"You have to," Vlad insists, wiping those damp tracks from his cheeks with his thumbs, "it's the only way. She knows too much."

"We can explain it to her, what they did to you, she'll understand-"

Vlad presses his index finger to Danny's lips. "Not the way we do. She'll try to go to the police, and they'll wave her off. Just like they did to me. You have to do it."

"Why me? I've never...not a person..." Danny leans into Vlad's embrace, allowing the older male to pet his hair.

"Because she's important to you," Vlad answers, "if anyone should do this, it should be you. I'd want you to kill me."

At the mention of death, she lets out a hoarse cry, struggling in her restraints. Vlad regards her coolly, before turning back to her brother. "You have to prove to me you can do this. I know you can," another kiss, "give her a proper death. Not like Armstrong. Right?"

Danny nods, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. The two walk over to rhe struggling girl, hand in hand. Vlad takes a long, shiny blade, one of the ones she's seen doused in blood, held by her mother's gloved hand. He gives it to Danny, "you only have to kill her. I'll do the rest."

The boy's arms tremble as he raises the knife, Jazz pleading through her gag for her brother to stop this. "Do it for the others," Vlad presses his lips to Danny's ear, "do it for justice," then underneath his jaw, "do it for me."

"I love you," Danny sobs to the girl, and a burning sensation takes over her throat as the knife is shoved in. Blood pours out of her throat, over her jaw. Spews from the gash in her neck. She can't breath. Gargling, she chokes on her own blood, desperately trying to get air to her lungs through her ruined windpipe.

Once again, black spots are dancing over her vision, and Danny is collapsed, clinging to her stomach as he mourns the girl he murdered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to keep it kinda vague as to what was ACTUALLY going on, and tried to make this one as plot twisty as possible. Did it work? Not sure. If you would like to, please tell me in the comments below what you think happened! Why did Danny agree to kill Jazz? Why was Vlad insistent on killing her? If it's Vlad and Danny killing everyone, what happened to Vlad's face? And if Danny has never killed a PERSON before Jazz, why did Sam and Tucker die? What about Armstrong?  
> I just kinda wanna know if I did what I was trying to instead of just confusing the reader lol. So feel free to tell me your theories!


	4. twenty four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twenty four breaths before death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's another sad one. I know yall prefer the cute or funny ones, but I'm Not Good right now and I think if I even tried to write something all feel-goody, it would come out horribly robotic. 
> 
> TW:
> 
> > past character death  
> > implied alcoholism

Twenty four green books in a mahogany bookcase.

Vlad's read all of them, one by one throughout his live. He can barely recall their plots.

Twenty four black pens in a mug on his cherry wood desk.

The mug reads _Sir_ _Cheeshead_ _, The First._ It was custom ordered from a website Vlad had never heard of before. When he opened the packaging to see it, he couldn't help how his lips curled into the softest smile any person could ever have.

_"You going soft on me,_ _Plasmius_ _?"_

Twenty four hours in a day.

All of which he's spent trying to forget. Work to distract the thoughts raising in his head. The ones he's deemed to be forbidden. Drink to numb those silly human emotions a part of him wishes he'd never had. But if he didn't have them, he would've never loved-

No, drink some more. Until the lines on the paper blur. He should go visit, but he doesn't think his heart could take it.

Twenty four years spent on this Earth.

Not Vlad's years, he's been here much longer. Someone else's. A name his lips won't dare to utter. If anyone were to say it, to write it, to _think_ it near him, he might pull the remaining hair on his head out.

_He_ liked his hair long. So after the last time Vlad saw _him,_ he cut it short.

Twenty four headstones passed before he makes it there.

To Daniel's grave. Flowers rest all over it, as well as a burger. Mister Foley must've put it there.

From his place in the graveyard, Vlad can see two constellations perfectly: the big dipper, and the little dipper. They sparkle in the night, in a way his little badger would have adored.

Twenty four minutes alone at a headstone, not a single word spoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its short but yeah im not exactly feelin it rn. I'll get around to writing something better eventually, maybe a sequel to "wake up call" or "good intentions" since some have asked for it.


	5. requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite what you may think, the hero mourns deeply at the defeat of their so-called enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically a flip of the last fic, ALSO very sad. 
> 
> ALSO: I love comments! You guys are so nice and I'm glad you like my works (when I'm not torturing you with my love of horror)! I would respond to individual comments, but not only do I not know how to anonymously respond, but I'm sure my oh so eloquent "jshfifoti tHANK YOU SO MUCH" replies would get repetitive
> 
> TWs:
> 
> > past character death  
> > implied unhealthy relationships

_"_ _Knock, knock,"_

Says the sister, who stands nervously at the door. They say to leave him be, that he needs time and space to think.

Yet a part of her knows, looking at the boy crumpled on his bed, that he does not yearn to be alone.

Simply, _she_ is not the one he is lonely for.

_"You're drifting away,"_

Says the girl, her purple lips twisted in a frown. They'd spend their days together, once upon a time, rarely not hand in hand. Now he flinches from her touch, and the poem she wrote him is no longer on the wall.

It's not her fault, he's said, she's said, they've said. And she knows it. This is more complicated than blame, but how could you expect her to understand? She's a teenage girl, far too young to comprehend why her boyfriend would miss _him_ of all people.

Maybe she shouldn't have yelled, or stormed out on him. But the deed is done, her anger has gotten the best of her.

_"You're worrying them,"_

Is what _he_ would've said, had he been here.

Danny swings between moods, between bitterly thinking Vlad would be happy to see him so distressed without him, and somehow _knowing_ the man wouldn't.

All he ever wanted was love.

He fucked that up. It's his own fault.

Still, Danny still feels as though he should've done more. Isn't he the hero, isn't it his job to save people? To _fix_ them?

Why could he not pull Vlad from the clutches of his own evil?

_"You didn't fail him,"_

Says the parents, when he finally breaks down and voices this.

_"He's an adult, it was his responsibility to seek help,"_

Says the therapist they force him into seeing, who he tunes out most days.

_"There was nothing you could've done,"_

They all say, trying to convince him to see that developing a co-dependant relationship for the sake of _"helping"_ a mentally unstable criminal is _not_ heroism.

It's self-destruction.

_"I still miss him,"_

Says the boy, quietly, only to himself. Afraid of what others might think, if they learned his fantasies all involved the very man who hurt him.

_"I still miss him."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR IM WORKING ON SOMETHING HAPPIER JUST GIVE ME TIME


	6. the game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something like a cat and mouse, if you will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhh I genuinely cannot think of any TWs for this story but it's definitely not exactly..fluffy? It's a tad weird. No in a crack way, but...  
> Well, you've seen there are yandere vlad fics out there. Even some yandere danny ones, though it'd take a bit of searching to find (at least in the pomppep side of the fandom)   
> But have you seen them BOTH? TOGETHER?  
> this is basically that.  
> Also announcement in the author's note at the end of the fic so please read that!

Two sets of feet thump against the forest floor, white boots having had a head start. Alarms blare behind them, alerting the teen's capturer that he's left the premises.

The sound is like music to Vlad's pointed ears. Fangs bare with the wild smile that stretches across his face, it signifying that their game has begun. They haven't played this one in a bit, though he supposes the suspense build up and the surprise of when it happens is all part of the fun.

He's hurrying out the door to catch up to his little lover, wondering how the boy escaped. Sure, the castle is _supposed_ to be impossible for a certain someone to leave, but that would put a damper on their game, so Vlad is always sure to... _forget_ a something or other. He'll have to ask Daniel just how he did it this time, have the teen prove to him once again that he is not as predictable as Vlad supposedly thinks.

Then, tonight, once Vlad's bagged his prize and had his way with him, he'll have to ensure that Daniel's cage gets a tiny bit harder to leave. After all, there's no fun in it if the boy can just wiggle his way through the bars! No, he must teach the young halfa to strategize, and revel in all the new and fun ways his little badger can leave.

Oh, well, Vlad doesn't exactly take joy in the thought of Daniel leaving him. Nope, he adores knowing that the teen is stuck to him via heavy chains, loves that the teen has come to beg to be leashed. What Vlad enjoys so much is knowing he'll capture Daniel, drag him back to the castle, and start a whole new game.

Flying isn't allowed in their game. No, that would make things far too easy, and what fun is a game that ends quickly?

Especially if the objective is not to escape. Of course, that's what one would think, if they were watching on the outside. No one is; human beings aren't for miles. It would take hours to fly to thr nearest town, even more to run. But getting away, that's far from what the boy is trying to do.

This is a game of cat and mouse. The end goal isn't for the prey to escape the predator, but to see how long it can go before it's caught. They play not because one wishes to be free, but for the thrill of the rush, that sweet adrenaline that comes from their play.

Daniel has the wind knocked out of him when Vlad collides his body into the ground, pinning him there by his throat. Giggles erupt from the younger's lips, sweat rolling off his face, the smell of Earth strong in his nose. "Every time we do this, you take longer to catch me," Daniel says as Vlad leans forward, dragging a claw along his flushed cheek, "startin' to make me feel like you _want_ me to leave, fruitloop."

"Well," Vlad growls, half-lidded, and lifts the teen up by his wrists, "I'll just have to remind you how much I need you around, won't I?"

"Hm, I guess you will," the wild, mad look never leaves the boy's sparkling eyes as he's _"forcibly"_ dragged back to the castle.

This isn't the end of the game. Daniel never gives up this easy, and Vlad wouldn't have it any other way. Perhaps he'll go intangible and speed off once they get to the halfway point, or he could decide to dart through the castle and find a hiding place. Make Vlad drag him out from under the bed.

Really, they've only just _begun._ The night is so very young, and both Plasmius and Phantom are eager to see where it will take them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, you might have noticed (or not, who knows) but uhhhhh....  
> My other fic is gone! I deleted it because it felt too personal to have up. Thank you for everyone who liked it, but it hit too close to home and started to upset me a bit to have up.   
> However! I will be working on a new multichapter fic I honestly think everyone will like more!!! Its a good balance of horror and fluff that'll satisfy my need for dark angsty stuff, and yall's need for sweet cute stuff!!!   
> Ir hasn't been posted yet, but I'll give you a hint of the storyline:   
> It was inspired by that one dark cover of You Are My Sunshine


	7. little dead boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vlad is confused as to why a certain little dead boy has decided to pay him a visir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I havent updated this one in a while; lullaby of a phantom has been taking up most of my free time. This is actually the first fic I ever wrote for this fandom, though I'm just now posting it, so it's kinda old. I was gonna post this other one I've been working on, but my stupid notes app just poofed it! Gone! Its not even in the trash file, it just disappeared! I could only recover half of it, and considering it was decently long, I'm uh.. A little bit discouraged as to rewritting the rest. I'll try to get around to it. 
> 
> Feelin like that one song in Hamilton. "Why do you write like you're running out of time?"   
> Answer: because I can't get a fUCKING JOB so I have nothing else to do.

"You've seriously gotta stop trying to clone me, fruitloop. It's creepy."

Every muscle in Vlad's body tenses.

Something cold brushes against his shoulders, but that can't be right. Daniel had always been warm, a strange combination of heated skin and an ice core. It was always Vlad who was cold, both inside and out.

Arms wrap around his neck, feeling lighter than they should. A cheek is pressing to his as his pencil clatters against the ground. "Hey," says the entity, the one he can't bare to look at. Last time he saw that face, it's eyes were shut and it was surrounded by silk and flowers. He paid for the whole thing, the funeral. His grudge couldn't stop his heart from aching for the parents who had lost their son.

"Why are you here, Daniel?" He asks this not because he wants the boy anywhere else- if he could've, he would've kept Daniel right by his side forever. Then he'd never feel lonely again. He would never have to go home to a large, empty home that doesn't really feel like a home, because in his fantasies Daniel is always there waiting for him.

But the younger half- ...well, the young ghost has better places to be. With his parents, his friends, his sister. _Not_ with his so-called archenemies.

"Mom, Dad, and Jazz have each other. Tucker and Sam have their parents and each other to go to." _You don't have anyone,_ goes unsaid. All Vlad has ever had are his obsessions, the things he uses to distract himself from the hurt inside. And Daniel. No matter the scheme, no matter the fight, he could always expect it to be the little white haired teenager to come to his side with green eyes ablaze.

Sometimes he'd do something just to get Daniel's attention. How _foolish_ is that, that he felt he had to get into trouble and knock the boy's teeth out just to spend time with him? If he had just let the anger inside of him _go,_ would Daniel have come to him willingly? Would he smile at him in a way that isn't taunting, would he touch him in a way that doesn't cause injury?

It's too late to find out. All of that time, wasted on _hating_ people who couldn't care less about him.

"Vlad," poking his finger into Vlad's cheek, Daniel pouts, "don't ignore me. I came all the way here just for you, cheesehead."

_"Why?"_ And he doesn't mean what he asked before. How could the boy stand to look at him, to touch him? It could've been Vlad who put him in that casket. He wouldn't have, he always held back during their fights because lord, if he genuinely hurt the child he might've gone and hurt himself. But if he had slipped up, let that ever burning rage inside of him get out of hand, it very well could've been his fault Daniel bled out on the streets of Amity.

Daniel just shrugs, nuzzling further into the man's neck. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on you. You're obviously not okay, considering..." He gestures towards Vlad's work.

The clone he's trying to make that he knows will fail. Even if it does end up a successful copy of Daniel, it'll never be _perfect_ in his eyes. Vlad doesn't want a remake, he wants the original. Nothing could replace what he's lost.

Vlad sighs. He lifts his pencil from the ground and drops it into it's holder. "Why do you care?"

"Because despite what you might think, I genuinely like you, jerk." Said pencil is now being tossed at him, hitting his chest and falling again. He could've caught that; his arms don't have the energy to move. "And I know you don't want me to leave."

Vlad turns his back to the ghost boy, exiting his lab. There's no need to check, Daniel is following him. "I don't..." His hands move on memory, mind not bothering to think about what he's doing. Tea makes itself, two cups, though he pauses at the second, feeling nauseous as he puts it away. "I don't deserve you."

Maybe the boy wasn't expecting him to be so honest. Vlad is met with a wide set of lime green eyes, fingers gripping the table he sat upon. Slowly they soften, "You did some shit, like, really bad shit."

"Language," Vlad corrects on reflex, causing a smile to grow on his companion's face.

"But," the boy scoots over so that Vlad may take the chair his legs dangle beside, "everyone deserves a second chance. Even crazy old men who really just need a hug."

Inside of him, a glass wall shatters. Tears flow down his face for the first time in years, his palm coming up to muffle his cries. Daniel wiggles his way into his lap, shushing him as he comfortingly rubs his back. "I'm right here," he whispers, "I'm not leaving you."

"But you aren't here," Vlad wipes his face, eyes still watery and red, "you won't go to school anymore, you won't wake up to your parents every day. You're _gone,_ Daniel."

"No, I'm not. And who says I can't do that kind of stuff? Other ghosts live perfectly normal lives!" His arms spread triumphantly, falling when the older's face stays as numb as it was.

"In the ghost zone."

Huffing, Daniel crosses his arms. "So? My friends know who I am. So does Jazz. I can see them when I want. And..." He leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. "I have you."

For the first time since finding out about the boy's death, a smile grows on Vlad's face. "You have me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst angst angst


	8. replacements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year, twelve months, three hundred sixty-five days, two thousand eighty-seven hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this idea came to me in the dead of the night so if its poorly written its because i wrote it while half asleep.
> 
> TWs because this one's a spooky one. Blame it on the fact that it's october. Should I do a halloween special chapter? :
> 
> > kidnapping  
> > sensory overload/sensory deprivation   
> > starvation  
> > victim blaming  
> > selfharm  
> > hallucinations  
> > technical underage (danny is 16/17)  
> > vlad being even more nuts than normal! Woo!  
> > MILD sexual imagry but really not much   
> > stockholm syndrome
> 
> I think thats all but yall get the gist

Danny's been...different.

Not bad different. In fact, Jack would say he's _better,_ good. That smile of his is much more frequent as of late, he hasn't snuck out in weeks, and his grades are climbing to acceptable ranges. Chores are done on time, his once underweight frame has filled out, given that he's stopped skipping meals. Even his skin his closer to Maddie's olive tan, warm and bright looking.

Healthy. _Happy._ Pleasant to be around, interested in his parents' work. Jack has never seen Danny so lively before, especially after he'd turned fourteen. Everyone was so worried; Maddie would spend nights fretting over how late their child was coming home, Jazz would beg them to get Danny a psychologist (though after the last one, they're quite hesitant to try again), and Jack would hover at his son's doorway, nervously wondering if he should try to invite him to play videogames. 

Is his bonding time cutting in to his son's sleeping? Has he done his homework? How can he show that he's only _scared_ of whatever is causing Danny's distress, and _not_ that he loves Jazz more and isn't proud of his boy? All these questions would form in his head and ultimately had him shuffling away, wanting to give Danny the space he knows teenage boys yearn for. Suffocating him would only make him pull away more, right?

Then one day, seemingly out of nowhere, Danny was just...better. All fixed. Like he simply had been sick for a prolonged amount of days and now that his nonexistent fever is gone, he's back and kicking better than before. Sure, his memory has gotten fuzzier; sometimes they have to remind him of old family memories, but Jack's memory is God awful. It probably runs in the family.

And maybe that growth spurt is kind of random, but Jack's a tall guy! Danny holding himself up im his room all day just made it hard for him to notice his kid's growth. Jazz is certain Danny's eyes had been a lighter shade of blue and insisted on a doctor's visit, but surely she's just confused. Eye colors don't change, it's a trick of the light that's caused his powdery blue eyes to look more oceanic.

Yes, that's all it is. Jazzy and Danny's little friends are being paranoid. Jack, for one, is quite glad his son is in better spirits. He only wishes the kids could feel the same.

//

Dark, dark, dark. It's so dark. Why can't he be permitted to even a smidgen of light? A lamp is all he asks for. The ability to see the hands in front of his face.

But bad, naughty children don't _get_ wonderful things such as sight and sound, or food and water. Maybe some chicken broth, bottles of tap here and there to keep him from perishing, but nothing to quell his aching hunger. Stabbing, horrid aches just at his ribcage, one of the few things reminding him that he truly exists. Pain is all Danny has, the one thing Vlad cannot take away from him.

Tempting is it, to give in to what the crazed billionaire wants of him. _Join me,_ calls a voice, hissed against his ear. Is it really there, or is it one of the many visions that come with being devoid of human contact for weeks on end? Never blinking red eyes, sharp teeth, ghosts of fire and laughter and _inevitability_ insisting that this is right. That this is the only way he will never become _him._ To stay weak, under the thumb of Plasmius but not under the guidance of him, is to refrain from the power that is _Dan Dark._

Bugs crawl up his skin and his nails rake at them, tearing, bleeding himself out. How did insects get into his chamber? Vlad would never let such dirty things into his home. Danny wonders distantly why the man wants something as pathetic and broken as himself; it's so very obvious that the potential that once drew Vlad in is totally gone. There's nothing for this Danny to grow into. He'll only continue to wilt.

Mom's violet eyes stare down at him. Dad holds a scalpel for the ghost boy, both full of eager cruelness as they kneel down, ready to plunge their teeth into his flesh and steal his organs, rip out his lungs and _capturehisbreathpullouthishairtastehishlafafreakDNA_ _-_

"Daniel?"

Whine. Worthless. Woken from his fever dream by that dreaded yet longed for voice coming in through the intercom. Danny hates those speakers. When Vlad wants them to be, they're utterly silent, allowing Danny to get used to _nothingness._ To drown in the void until suddenly, he's pissed the man off and everything is so _loudandbrightandohgodmakeitstopplease_ _-_

Slowly, the lights lift from completely off to dim. Still, Danny's eyes are having a hard time adjusting, so he covers them with his scabbed palms. They're crimson, raw from him picking at their skin and rubbing them against the floor to feel something, anything. His forehead is similar, from him bashing it against the floor. He tries not to do that anymore, because when he does, Vlad brings in the straight jacket and soft helmet. Which keeps Danny from doing anything too extreme.

So he must refrain, and stick to the little things Vlad barely notices. Like how his lips are maimed by his teeth, and his stomach is covered in bruises from consistent punching to keep the hunger at bay.

Footsteps make their way towards him, clicking against the hardwood floor. They stop just before him, and _fuck,_ if the feeling of Vlad's fingers carding gently through his unbrushed hair doesn't feel good. It's enough to make a moan slip past his lips, shudders running violently down his spine. The man chuckles at this, clearly pleased by the reaction.

Danny hasn't felt gentleness in so long. Sometimes the clones will come in, the ones of his parents, to beat him and scream that he's a _worthlessmonsterghostfreak_ who's taken their baby boy away from them. Other times ghosts, his previous enemies like Skulker or Spectra will arrive to put him through hell. The _only_ way he's allowed to receive kindness, is if he's a good boy for Vlad. Plasmius is the only one allowed to care for him, even if it's in his fucked up, fruitloop way.

"What's goin through that pretty head of yours, little badger?"

_I don't know how long I've been here and at this point I'm afraid to ask,_ Danny's mind answers. Days turn to weeks that melt into months and honestly, years could've passed without Danny knowing. How is the world outside of his enclosure? Is Jazz a psychiatrist yet? Has Sam single handedly saved every endangered species known to man? Is Tucket trying desperately hard to eat said animals? What about Mom and Dad- is Fenton Works still up and running? How fo they feel about Phantom's disappearance?

Or does that little clone Vlad gave them have the ability to go ghost? Can Dani tell the difference between himself and a copy? What about Valerie's suit?

These questions aren't allowed. No, the outside world is not permitted to Danny. Speaking anything of his life before this cube that doesn't involve Vlad will result in immediate punishment. Danny once thought he knew all his rival to be capable of. He thought Vlad to be messed up, but not entirely deranged. After all, he never tried to keep Mom captive and force her into Stockholm Syndrome, despite being _"obsessed"_ with her. And he never actually killed Jack, despite having so many opportunities to do so when Danny wasn't around.

Danny always reasoned that Vlad didn't actually _want_ those things. That they were just distractions, ways to very poorly cope with the hurt deep inside.

Boy, was he wrong. Maybe Vlad didn't actually love Mom, but he most certainly wants Danny. And that want, what Danny thought to be a simple need to steal Jack's son away so that he can make the man hurt like he once did, went from _pick me as your mentor instead of him,_ to _I'm going to keep you imprisoned until you have no choice to love me and_ _ **only**_ _have me to turn to._

_Mentally unstable_ changed to _absolutely fucking deranged._

"Ow," is what Danny actually says. Still frightened he might voice a word the man doesn't like. A part of him wants to. Somewhere, deep inside of him, is the ugly need for those fingers to curl into his hair and pull at his scalp. To feel the _pain_ because pain is _familiar._ Pain is all Danny knows.

But even more he longs for Vlad to hold him. Memories of those disgusting nights he'd spend thinking about the man's lips on his skin and the hallucinations that might not be hallucinations of him _touching_ Danny haunt every one of his waking hours. 

He thanks whatever deity is watching this shit show for making Vlad sane enough to provide a laundry shoot in Danny's prison. Wearing pajamas stained with blood and other bodily fluids for days on end is _not_ something Danny wants to have to experience.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Vlad questions, like he needs to. The bastard knows Danny's insides are gnawing at him, growling for nourishment. He's the one causing that pain, after all. "I could make it all end, you know. I could take you away from you, take you up to a nice, warm bed. It would be much better than sleeping on that cot, wouldn't it?"

"Please," Danny begs, without meaning to let the words slip past his lips.

Stroking down Danny's face, fingertips tracing his neck, Vlad continues, "I'd love to, Daniel. You know I dream of being able to pamper you like I could, to shower you in affection like a proper owner would." Not father. Not mentor, nor friend. _Owner._ Master. "But I can't, not until you accept your place."

Sobs wracking through his body, Danny clutches the baggy shirt hanging from his chest. "So, tell me, dear boy," Vlad's hand cups Danny's throat, palm resting at his windpipe, "Do you renounce your previous family, your life? Will you drop it all for me? May you leave everything behind in favor of being at my side?"

_Y_ _esnop_ _lease_ _stopaskingletmegoyeskeepme_ ** _lovemehurtmepleasplease_** ** _-_** "I..." The hero in him, Phantom, who's kept from emerging due to the collar that hangs loosely around his neck, screams at him to deny. Never give in, because if he does, he's failing everyone he loves. Do they love him back? Has the clone replaced him so easily? God, why is he fighting so hard when life has moved on without him? If he's going to forever be Vlad's prisoner, can he not allow himself some level of comfort? He yearns to reduce his suffering, painfully so.

"I don't have all day, little badger. I think I've made quite the compromise, agreeing to not, oh, how did you put it? _Turn you into my evil minion?"_ Vlad muses, moving to pull his hand away. Danny yanks it back, crying out when the tiniest bit of humanity that's been shown to him attempts to leave. "Go on, make your decision."

"I- I..."

Vlad sighs. "Perhaps you need some time alone to figure it out."

"No!" Danny shrieks, failing to stand up. When he tries, his vision swims, head fuzzing up and leading him to stumble back to the floor. "Please..."

"I'll give you to the count of three, Vlad tells him, watching him with an unreadable expression.

"One..."

He can't believe himself. Betraying Mom, Dad, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, Amity, _himself,_ for _Vlad._

"Two..."

Though, it doesn't matter. He couldn't stop the words from coming out if he tried.

"Thr-"

"I'll do it." Danny whispers, not looking at the man in front of him. He pulls himself onto his knees, pleading to his captor, "I renounce my f-father, everyone, to stay with you...please, Vlad, I want to stay by your side..." Shame and nausea and excitement hit him like a bag of bricks, swung directly at his hallow, empty stomach.

The boy can practically hear the smile in Vlad's voice as he says, "I'm so glad you've come around," scooping Danny up woth glee. "And, little badger?"

Danny's nervous eyes glue to the door. He's going to leave. He's going outside, maybe not to see nature but something other than the mirrors that surround his own room, the reflection of a hero destroyed. "Ye- yeah?"

"Happy seventeenth."

_One year, twelve months, three hundred sixty-five days, two thousand eighty-seven hours._ _One year, twelve months, three hundred sixty-five days, two thousand eighty-seven hours._

_One year, twelve months, three hundred sixty-five days, two thousand eighty-seven hours._

**_One year, twelve months, three hundred sixty-five days, two thousand eighty-seven hours._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my aus consist of: redempted vlad, and feral vlad. that is all.  
> imma have to do a feral danny next. maybe that'll be the halloween chapter.


	9. eye for an eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want to hold your hand,  
> I want to hold your throat,  
> I want you marked with blood,  
> And broken bones,  
> I want to eat at you the way it eats at me,  
> I want you so bad that I can't breathe."
> 
> \- Tell Me When It Hurts, Flower Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feral Danny has been COMPLETED! Tell me if you think I did good, and I'll try to write something nice for the next chapter, since I've been indulging my horror side recently. (No promises, though, since I do wanna make a Halloween chapter.)
> 
> TWs:
> 
> > abuse  
> > captivity  
> > mental instability  
> > justification abuse + victim blaming  
> > cruel and unusual punishment?

Danny's boots click against the cement floor of his basement. Or, not really _his._ This is Vlad's old place, given to him when the man was deemed both a monster and deceased. It's only right, after all, that it goes to Danny. He did spend so long being harassed by the man. The only good thing Vlad has done is give most of his shit to Danny and Maddie in his will. And since she wanted nothing from the man, that left Danny to take it all.

A small smile forms on his lips as he places the tray of food on the floor, and kicks it into the tiny space made specifically for this purpose, it sliding into a ghost-proof cage. And human proof. Halfa proof, that part is essential.

"Brought ya dinner, Vladdie. Your favorite, since you've been good." The young adult crouches, light smile on his face not at all matching his cold eyes. "You're probably planning somethin', aren't ya? A quiet Plasmius is never good...but you know how these things go." Danny makes a circular motion with his hand, "punishment and rewards system. Training a bad, disobedient puppy."

Vlad says nothing. For the first few weeks, he'd been apologetic. Quiet. Like he _really_ thought he deserved what Danny was putting him through. But Phantom knows better. Plasmius _never_ takes fault for anything. He's a selfish, cruel jackass, who stole a good portion of Danny's teenage years away. Made him like- like _this._ Paranoid. Hearing things.

Of course that sham ended about a month in. Vlad wasn't exactly _demanding,_ but he certainly wasn't happy to be stuck in a prison cell eating bread and soup every day. _Sucks to suck,_ Danny thinks. He terrorized the boy for four years, so now, Danny is going to do the same to him. Oh, what's that phrase? _An eye for an eye?_

"You're awfully quiet today," Danny muses, pulling up his chair. The nice, big one he stole from Vlad's study. He likes to sit in it when he talks to his captive. Makes him grin, revelling in the soft cushioning. Staring at that sleeping bag on the floor can be quiet discomforting. "Aren't you gonna eat?"

Vlad's eyes, dull, glance at the food. Today, Danny made tomato soup and grilled cheese. Tomorrow he's thinking toast with chicken. Maybe he'll bring down some fruitloops for breakfast. It might make the guy scowl, show that anger that Danny _knows_ he feels. A guy doesn't loathe with a boiling rage for twenty years and then stop after a few months in space. Plasmius hasn't _changed._ He isn't capable of such a thing.

Gritting his teeth together, Danny spits, "What, is it not _good_ enough for you? Not _perfect_ like you had hoped?" 

_"I'll have my perfect, half-ghost son. You will be obsolete."_

"Well, V-man, think of it this way," Danny is shaking. His breath feels hot, like venom, and he's glad he has Vlad locked up down here. If he let his anger out on anyone else...they just might die! And he can't let the world know that their precious Phantom isn't quite the hero they think he is. They'd hate him, turn a quick switch like they always do and go back to trying to kill him.

It's only a matter of time. He's seen the looks, those fearful eyes that hit him when he's a little too rough with an enemy. Lik that enemy hasn't tried to murder him on several occasions. "This way, you get what you've always wanted. I'm yours, fruitloop. No one else could handle me like this," he laughs, a seething, ugly thing, "though, technically, it's more like you're _mine._ But same difference, you know?"

Plasmius winces, as if Danny had hit him. He has, before. Several times. Danny would come back from a fight or a nightmare pissed, mind still playing his dissolving clones-

_overandoverandoverandoverandoverand_ _overandoverandoverandoverand_

_overand_ _overandoverandoverandoverandover_

_and_ _overandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverand_

_overandoverandoverandover_

_andoverandoverand_

_overandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandover_

_andoverandoverandoverandoverandoverand_

**_o v e r -_ **

-again, as he'd take the pleading, malnourished man by his collar and beat him senseless. For everything he's ever done, and will ever do. For the nights he spent awake, fourteen years old, staring at the forty year old monster sleeping on an air matress next to his bed. Worried that if he gets even a _second_ of shut eye, he'll wake with fingers around his throat. Or dead bodies bleeding on the floor.

A part of Danny wants to hit him, right now. Blacken his eye, cause crimson to roll down his chin. Make him sob and beg for mercy, for having the _audacity_ to act like a victim.

How dare he? How dare he put Danny through hell, make him collapse crying in nothing but a towel because he found fucking _security cameras in his room,_ regularly threaten his loved ones, outright abandon Danielle, and act like he has a _right_ to cry? He doesn't. Villains like him don't get rights. He should be happy Danny visits him at all, considering he'd originally been banished to space.

He shuts off the protective ghost shield. Vlad has the Spector Deflector on around his throat anyway; the ghost shield is only really on as a precaution. Danny is storming inside, slamming the metal door of the cell against the wall as Vlad starts scooting across the floor, looking as pathetic as he made child Danny feel.

"No! You don't get to run away from me!" Danny screams, sending an ecto-blast right beside Vlad's head. He can't use most of his ghost powers against the man anymore, with how weak he is. So everything in the _most definitely will kill the captive_ category is only used to intimidate. "You're _mine,_ you hear me?! _**Mine!"**_

Which it does. Vlad whimpers, throwing his arms up to cover his head. "I don't _think_ so, fruitloop," hisses the teen, who easily shoves his arms away and yanks the older halfa up by his throat. "How many times did you do this to me, hm?" Asks Danny as he smacks Vlad's head against the wall. "It was your favorite attack, wasn't it? Did it feel nice? To have a little boy at your mercy? Did it make you feel _big and strong,_ Vladdy?"

Terrified blue eyes peak up at him, tears forming in them. Finally, the man speaks. "My God, Daniel," it's a whisper, so hushed that the boy barely heard it, "what have I _done_ to you?"

The words take a moment to settle in. He isn't asking about the actions he knows damn well make him deserve such treatment. No, he's asking just what kind of _monster_ his abuse turned Danny into.

With his heart in his stomach, Danny kicks the man in the ribs. Several. Times. Enough that Vlad is coughing up blood and wheezing, scraggly beard covered in maroon liquid. When his sobs turn to small hiccups, Danny smashes his bowl of soup against the wall and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Vlad. That's what happens when you push a guy too far, I guess.


	10. laboratory blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's the anniversary of Jack's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the kind comments on lullaby guys  
> still on hiatus, im really not doing good, but i felt bad for not posting and this idea came to me so here's a short one. this is an au fic by the way, and if u can guess what the au is (its based off another franchise) uhh...i'll let you choose the genre of the next oneshot? (fluff, horror, etc)  
> i figured if i try writing oneshots i might be able to get back into writing lullaby, which i have had zero motivation for bc of mental health reasons.   
> anyway.
> 
> TW:
> 
> > mentions of lab experiments  
> > teen vlad is in this but he still has a thing for maddie (dw maddie doesnt return those feelings he's just weird and milfs are hot)  
> > there's not a lot of pomppep interaction, however, i plan on adding on to this so that there WILL be pomppep (and maybe other ships? if anyone can suggest one that will interest me)  
> > slight child neglect but nothing worse than in the show

It's so dark down here.

Danny's never liked the lab, nor the hallway that leads down to it. The walls are cold stone, corners covered in cobwebs. And the screams- the sounds of mechanical whirrs and animalistic shouts. They're horrifying, even if Danny knows his mother isn't experimenting on anything human. Ghosts can't feel pain or emotions, so it's _fine._ She's doing it so she can better understand how to keep everyone safe, so it's _fine._

Still, those moans of mock pain haunt his nightmares, send shivers down his spine. He finds himself standing at the entrance to the lab, listening to them with morbid curiosity. Like one would a train crash. He cannot look away, despite how sick the sounds make him feel. Perhaps it's his parent's genes, the scientist blood inside of him, that makes him so intrigued by the noises.

The big, metal door looms in front of him. He isn't supposed to be down here, especially not at night. Mom works down here, and she says he's _too young_ to be experiencing any of her lab work. Danny scoffs; he's not a _baby._ He's fourteen! With Dad gone...he wishes she would see that he could be just as much help as that stupid guy she keeps around. 

Vlad isn't much older than him anyway. Sixteen, like Danny's older sister would've been two weeks ago. Mom sent her off after Dad's death to a girl's school, hoping that studies would help her bright daughter cope. Unfortunately, Jazz was much more fixated on psychology than paranormal investigation, so Mom wasn't too close to her.

To be fair, Mom isn't close to anyone anymore. She and Danny used to be glued to each other's hips, young Danny thinking his parents were _so cool_ for being ghost hunters. And she babied him, Jazz would say, treated him like a mini-her. Most mothers would do that to their daughters, but Jazz never liked her parents' professions. She found them cruel. It drove a wedge between herself and their parents.

Maybe that's why Jazz agreed to go, despite Danny begging her to stay. He didn't want to be any more alone than he felt, after Dad died. Mom locked herself away in the basement and Danny didn't want anything to do with the weird Russian teen who seemed to have the hots for Danny's mother, so when Jazz left, he felt thoroughly abandoned.

When their parents were busy, it was always her taking care of Danny. She read him bedtime stories, she cooked them meals. Hell, she even brought him home Cujo, his boston terrier that sits in his bed and judges everything that moves. Once he got old enough that the whole _new baby_ thing wore off and his parents considered him able to fend for himself, Jazz stepped in to parent him.

Now, he had no one.

Mom came up for dinner, but she'd always bring _Vlad._ He hates Vlad. The kid is so pretentious, quiet. He treats Danny like an unruly child, always telling him he needs to fix his hair, or fighting with him to get him to button his shirt collar. And his eyes. They're not like Danny's own baby powder blue, or his father's deep ocean color. They're icy, piercing, always narrowed. The way he looks down at everyone, talks to Danny like he's less than dirt, and worships a woman twice his age is too creepy for Danny's liking.

It's like he's trying to steal Dad's place. And Danny will have _none_ of it. Danny only has one father, and that's Jack Fenton. Big, boisterous, loud-mouthed Jack, who always made their too big, too dark house full of joy. Who made sure his kids believed in Santa Claus even though Mom thought the idea of lying to their children for some corporate holiday was stupid.

Danny really misses him. Dad was a sickly man, likely due to his eating habits. His heart wasn't the strongest, and nearing the end of his life, he often had to sit down or he'd start to turn red and shaky. Jazz and Danny spent a good portion of their time helping him around the house, and even Vlad was kind to him, despite having treated him like garbage in the past. Dad was always nice to that boy, acted as though he was a second son. Yet Vlad could only see him as competition for a woman he could never have.

Because...Mom wouldn't date someone so young. That's illegal. And weird. Right?

Danny shakes those thoughts from his head. Today is the anniversary of Dad's death, the day Mom found him slumped over after having had a heart attack. He shouldn't plague today with such gross ideas.

His knuckles click when he brings them down on the lab's door. He prepares for the scolding he knows will come, pulling at the end of his nightshirt when Mom opens the door. "Danny, you know you aren't allowed down here."

"Yeah, but..."

"No buts."

Sighing, his eyes drop to his feet. She's been like this since Dad passed. Strict, distant. He wishes she would hold him again, like she did when he was small. Would tuck the blankets underneath his chin, instead of telling him that he's a young man who needs to learn how to be less clingy. "...Dad died today."

Instantly her eyes soften. She wipes her black gloves off on her hazmat suit and kneels, placing her hands on his knobby shoulders. "I know, hun," her lips pull into a thin line, and her eyes are slightly red. What he would give to be able to comfort her, for her to turn to him instead of _Vlad._ "We'll go visit his grave together in the morning, okay?"

He nods, sniffling as she presses a kiss to his head. "Go get some rest, Danny. I'll be heading to bed myself shortly."

"Okay."

As he's walking away, he can hear her rev up one of her many Fenton Weapons- perhaps that...what was it? _Proto-portal_ she had been working on. And a scream follows, one that sounds familiar in a way that has him stopping for only a moment, before forcing himself to gain speed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked it, even tho its short and has like zero flavor.   
> im honestly just chornically bored rn bc that depression juice has sucked any enjoyment i get out of life (esp bc of them dark thoughts tm that are like "nothing will matter bc ill be dead soon" but we dont gotta talk abt that) and have no ideas so when this came to me i was like...fuck it, might as well provide bc im a people pleaser and if someone likes this story, at least i made someone else happy yk?
> 
> also bc im a depressed adult im returning to my roots to try to feel SOMETHING so im listening to vocaloid and making aus based off of things i liked when i was 13. wack. 
> 
> and aorry if u get any REALLY angsty shit from me soon. like i said, im sad and my brain cant decide if i wanna cope by tormenting danny or writing him being babied bc i wasn't held enough as a child. we'll find out eventually.


	11. playing hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny decides to make a blog answering questions anyone may have for Phantom, in hopes of humanizing ghosts and connecting with his fans.
> 
> He gets one question in particular that strikes a nerve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO BOY, y'all blame those in the discord server i'm in for this one, because they validated me writing ooc danny so i could relate to him more and thus why this dumpster fire vent fic was born. 
> 
> my psychiatry appt is tommorw even tho i was pretty sure it was on the 15th and i am s c a r e d.
> 
> anyways, tws:
> 
> > danny's age isn't mentioned in this, so you can picture him however you want, though he's probably still in highschool.  
> > obvious signs of ptsd, paranoid thoughts, delusions and hallucinations  
> > vlad being about as creepy as he is in canon, however, i did write him showing signs of redemption  
> > disassociation, derealization, depersonalization, etc  
> > child neglect, emotional abuse  
> > disordered eating habits  
> > self-harm  
> > unhealthy/toxic relationships and coping mechanisms  
> > slight mentions of nsfw  
> > slight age regression

_**ANONYMOUS asked:** _

_What's your_ _day to day routine? Do you fight ghosts every day? How do you make time to do the things you like when you're busy being a hero?_

_**PH4NT0M** _ **_replied:_ **

Okay, so here's the thing about being the hero:

It sucks. A lot. Like, way more than the comic books tell you. You asked how I make time for hobbies, and I'm going to answer you honestly. I don't. The closest thing I have to a hobby is napping while my friends play games in the same room and collecting anything related to space.

I don't just not have time for hobbies, I don't have time for _anything._ My days go like this:

Seven o' clock, either wake up for school because I managed to get a few minutes of sleep, or put on some new clothes because I'm awake and still wearing the ones from yesterday. Or don't. Maybe I'm too tired to change that day, or maybe it just slips my mind because when you sleep as little as I do, the days tend to blend together. Even worse, I might just not see the point in changing that day. Sure my jeans are scuffed and holey, and my shirt reeks from sweat, but who cares? It's not like anyone pays attention to my human half anyway.

Seven fifteen, go to school. Nope, no breakfast. Most days I've fought well into the morning and don't have time to eat. Or, because I never eat breakfast, I'm not hungry, and I know if I do eat, I'll only get nauseous. Either because I'm so used to not eating, or because I'll run into a ghost as soon as I get to school and fighting on a full stomach causes me to vomit later. Anxiety and adrenaline will do that to you.

Eight, arrive at school. Usually I'm dealing with Boxie or some other low level villain, which, on a side note. You become _really_ grateful of shit you shouldn't when you're a hero. Actually worrying villains almost _never_ come out before noon. Probably because they're putting their plans into gear, but it's fun to joke that they just aren't morning people. However, because I still have to deal with these assholes, I'm late by a handful of minutes to first period. Everyone's used to that by now, though.

Now, this is where things get tricky! Villains aren't a hive mind, so they don't keep to a single schedule. Somewhere throughout the day, some jerk will decide to cause trouble. I'm skipping class because Skulker is outside the school and if I don't meet him he'll try to meet me and put other students in danger. Or, I could be skipping lunch, which I don't even eat when I'm around for because again, not used to it. I keep protein bars on me, but they aren't the best meal replacers when you're burning thousands of calories a day keeping ghosts from tormenting your city.

Even more fun, I could be getting kidnapped on school grounds! Why? Well, if you aren't one of the sports kids or honors kids, you're invisible to teachers. With my grades being so garbage because I'm often having my bag destroyed by ghosts, my work uncompleted because I don't have time to do it, or just straight up not understanding papers because I'm hardly in class, I'm practically a ghost! (Get it?)

I leave "to go to the bathroom", get kidnapped by Plasmius, get tortured, escape, have a panic attack, and return to school. Then I get detention for skipping, and am somewhat happy to have it. At least I won't have to go home and hear my parents talk about wanting to dissect my alter ego. But again, enemies are dicks, so I probably have to ditch detention to fight another one. At this point I've hit full disassociation mode, that way my panic isn't coming back and getting me fully killed.

If I'm with my friends, I walk home. They're talking about the new slasher movie coming out and I'm looking over my shoulder to make sure no one's following us. One of them raises their hand too quickly and I have to brush off my flinch like I'm cold even though my ice core makes me manage easier in lower temperatures. They laugh about a joke and I bite my tongue, hoping they don't notice the way I keep jumping because for whatever reason, I'm hearing and seeing enemies that aren't there.

When I'm not, I fly home. Easier to deal with the paranoia if I can get home as fast as possible. Not that I feel entirely safe there, no. But if I'm alone in my room, I can't mistake people walking by for villains.

Sometimes a certain black car will be in the driveway and I'll have to mentally prepare myself to deal with _him._ Let me tell you right now: sometimes, parents are dumb and wrong. And just because someone is your parents' friend, doesn't mean you can trust him.

So if he's there, I do what my sister's books say and try to breath. It doesn't help. In fact, it makes me feel like I'm suffocating. I say fuck it and do what I know helps, which is to dig my nails into my palms and mentally check out. I open the door and my parents scold me because I'm shit at school and haven't done my chores and nothings ever good enough. _"Why can't you be more like Jazz,"_ they'll say. It hurts every time, no matter how many times they say it.

_He_ will step in, playing good ol' uncle. The bastard. He'll tell them not to be so harsh with me, and he'll mess up my already unbrushed hair or force me into a hug and- _ugh._ That slimy fucking smile. His jabs at my father who's, yeah, kind of an idiot sometimes but a better man than _he_ will ever be. And the kind of shit he says to my mother, why does he think borderline sexual harassment will make her like him? The fuck is going on in that creep's head?

Anyways. If he's over, it means a family dinner will certainly happen. Which means I can't sneak out to Nasty Burger with the gang. We'll all sit down at the table, and I'll only eat a portion of my food because it feels so foreign in my mouth and stomach. The textures are so wrong and unfamiliar, there's a weird, instant gag that happens when I swallow. Are half-dead people able to eat? _He_ is. Am I really half-dead, or am I just a kid possessing his corpse?

What little food I'm able to consume feels like cement in my stomach. Mom and Dad won't notice, they're busy talking to _him_ or ranting about how all ghosts are evil and the ghost kid must be because xyz reason that's really just _I'm too prideful to admit I'm wrong._ My sister might notice, and tell me not to pick at my food, but she's not an adult like she thinks she is so I don't have to listen to her.

_He_ notices. He always does. Just, sometimes, he chooses not to comment. Though, that's not all the time. Sometimes he does, a mocking chide about how growing boys need to eat and some pick at how small I am. And I'll internally tell him to fuck himself and eat less just to spite him.

Except I kind of feel bad because now even _he_ looks worried. Uncomfortable. Like my lack of eating is causing him to feel pity and _wow, something close to compassion for another human being?_ Gross! He even brought me Nasty Burger once, and even though I _really_ wanted to toss it out because he touched it and that means it's poisoned or contaminated, I was so fucking hungry I ran to my room and forced it all down my throat in seconds. It's like I've got no appetite, or my stomach is eating itself alive. On those days, I end up vomiting late into the night because I ate so much in such little time that my body couldn't handle it.

Then I'll go upstairs and either deal with whatever scheme he has for me, stalk him invisibly and feel gross about it but if I don't he has alone time with my parents which is never good, considering he wants my dad dead and hasn't shown an ounce of caring for the fact that my mother wants nothing to do with him. I want to believe he isn't so fucked up as to do anything without her consent, but he flirts with her after she repeatedly told him to leave her alone. I don't think normal kids have nightmares about what would happen to their moms if the creep they allow in the house were to have his way.

Recently he's made a habit of staying over, which is never good. My parents always make me share a room with him, which is _stupid_ because we have guest rooms! Most of them are filled with ghost equipment, but cleaning one out wouldn't be hard. Sometimes I wonder if he overshadowed them into making that decision, just so he could spend nights annoying me. It sounds like something he would do.

But these days he just makes his dumb little air-matress bed and lays there. We'll do some banter here and there but my brain is too fuzzy to think so I hardly know what I'm saying to him. He'll look at me funny, and I'll tell him to shut up so I can hopefully get at least a little homework or relaxation time in before I gotta deal with the ectopi outside. He wouldn't, he'd breath down my neck asking if I need help because _any good father would,_ and I'd try very hard not to stab him with a pencil.

Because heros don't start fights. They end them. It wouldn't be very heroic to stoop down to his level.

Eventually he'd be sabotaging my fights, telling me that children shouldn't sneak out like he doesn't cause most of my groundings. Except. I've noticed more often that he just sits in the back, taking out ghosts and acting like he doesn't know that I know he's there. It's easier if we pretend like we aren't starting to care for one another.

If I recognize that it's nice to feel like I have _someone_ looking out for me, especially someone like him, then I'll feel guilty and gross because I'm getting attached to the guy that stalks me and spends his time covering me in bruises. And it means I might have to come to the conclusion that people can change, that he just may be realizing that he's doing something wrong, seeing that ehat he does is tearing me up inside. Ruining my head so much that my nightmares become less and less of him killing me and more of him holding me. It has a hallow feeling settling in my chest, unable to remember the last time my parents tried to spend time with me without looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.

It also brings up those really weird thoughts of how he's kind of hot even if he's a dick and how many times I've caught myself thinking about him hurting me in ways he shouldn't, because my fucked up little brain decided that the best way to cope with him beating my ass is to get turned on by it. Yet another shameful thought to toss into the bucket.

If he admits he feels anything other than disappointment and annoyance at my presence, he might spontaneously combust. Accepting that he genuinely cares for me instead of just seeing me as a potential pawn, would rip open wounds that have him bleeding his fear of vulnerability. How could he let the son of the two people that hurt him the most into his arms? To him, that's a sure-fire way to get abandoned again.

Then I drag myself back home. It's probably four in the morning, and he's either there pretending to sleep, or I'm cleaning wounds by myself. If he's there, he'll act like I woke him up with all my _whining_ and demand I let him patch me up because I'm _doing it wrong._

Finally, I'm able to try and work on more homework or sleep. Sleep doesn't come easy, though. Not when your limbs seem to stretch and turn colors, like burnt hotdogs crisping and letting out the ungodly sent of scorched flesh. I'll keep scratching at them like I'm picking at a scab, unable to feel the pain. Unable to recognize myself anymore. There's no Danny left in me, just Phantom. Creepy little failure Phantom.

Passing out leads to nightmares. The ones where my parents are poking about at my insides, tsking about how they expected more. Calling me a monster, saying they never had a son. Just Jazz. I wake up an hour later patting myself down, feeling unusually cold. After all, with a ice core, the cold isn't supposed to hit me this hard. But it does, and I'm trying not to cry because someone could hear and I can't tell them that I'm trying to gather my organs back into my torso.

Too scared to go back to sleep, I'll scroll on my phone for a while, hoping to calm myself down. Maybe seeing praise about Phantom will help, maybe it'll make me feel like a fraud. The articles claiming me a menace make me think of Spiderman. I turn the phone off and try to sleep some more before I have to go to school.

Rinse and repeat. The same cycle, same fears, same self-loathing, every day. A never ending circle, blurring the months together. My memories are only those of the fights that cause my limbs to shake whenever someone slightly raises their voice, even when it's not at me. I didn't even notice a new game had come out until my friends asked which character I liked the best, and I had no idea what they were talking about.

Little comforts come from the times before all of this. I feel like a stupid little kid, pulling my old stuffed astronaut from my closet to cuddle with. Teenage boys aren't supposed to sleep with toys or watch shows made for toddlers or wish someone would just _take care of him for once._ But watching your typical action movies now cause panic attacks and the dark is far too dangerous as anything could be hiding it, so now I sleep with a nightlight even though Mom and Dad said I was too old for one.

It's one of the few things Vlad hasn't made fun of me for, and I hate that I'm grateful of that.

The truth is, I don't have a routine. I don't have many hobbies I'm able to indulge in or time for new ones. I don't have the ability to discover who I am and other coming-of-age, typical teen stuff. Ever since I've gotten this job that I didn't even really _want,_ I've been nothing but a security measure for Amity Park. There is no Danny. Who am I, if I'm not being used for the benefit of other people?

And it's not like I can just drop it, let others take care of it. I love my parents, but they're subpar at best and downright idiots at worst. They destroy public spaces by busting in without proper reasoning, getting other humans hurt because of their obsessive need to catch and experiment on ghosts. There's another thing- if I don't stop the ghosts, my parents will, and some unlucky, barely threatening spirit will end up being tortured in my basement because the Fentons _refuse_ to see how wrong they are in assuming that ghosts can't feel pain or emotion.

Oh, or the Guys in White will catch them, and that's even worse. They'd never have a chance of escaping, and where my parents would likely eventually kill the ghosts, the GIW would probably keep it alive for years, slowly and painfully picking it apart, cell by cell. Molecule by molecule. No one's safe if I try to live a life I was supposed to lose.

There is no existing outside of Phantom.

* * *

_Danny pauses at his rant, shoulders slumping. His palms run over his sweaty, grimy face. When was the last time he washed it? Or brushed his teeth? God, he feels disgusting._

_His finger jams the backspace button down, erasing everything._

* * *

**_PH4NTOM_ ** **_replied:_ **

haha, HOBBIES? a ROUTINE? no thanks. i drink 7 monsters and say DANCE GHOST BOY, DANCE!

jkjk, those planner-book thingies help a lot. and a watch, alarm clocks n' stuff. hope this answered ur question!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps danny phantom characters* these bitches can fit SO much trauma in them!!!!
> 
> dw i'll have vlad angst in the works here soon too. and i SWEAR a fluffy fic is coming im just mentally unstable rn. if u ever try to perceive me, please picture will graham when he was suffering from encephalitis in the first season of hannibal. i SPECIFICALLY kin that will.


	12. his name was daniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danielle has lived in her cousin's shadow for as long as she can remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy its been a while  
> i'm sorry i havent updated this or lullaby in a while. im in a rut and writing has kinda been hard. esp since im in a kinda..rough area with lullaby rn. a transition period, if you will. anyways, i wrote some spooky, dark badger cereal/lowkey pompous pep for u from the pov of Dani. this is an "all human" au, bc i wanted to see what the situation with the clones and vlad's fixation on danny (and maddie kinda) would be like without the ghost aspect. 
> 
> dw im almost done with a cutesy fic, promise. 
> 
> anyways, some tws:
> 
> > vlad being a creep / mentions of boundaries being crossed, noncon touching but not exactly sexual or graphic  
> > child abuse/neglect  
> > brief mentions of body / eating issues  
> > kidnapping / captivity

From the moment she was born, Danielle's father made sure she knew how unwanted she was. Her early childhood memories of Father are little to none, with him only really showing up to make sure she makes him look good to the public and nothing else.

There are few, scattered times where he would sit down and watch her play, or would take her out to eat. If she did something to _genuinely_ impress him, which isn't easy, mind you, he'd take her to pick out a new toy. And her birthdays were always big and extravagant, but they were never what _she_ wanted.

Danielle doesn't exactly like boyish clothing, or masculine things, but Father wanted a son. So she tossed out her fuzzy sweaters and knee-length skirts and allowed him to have her dressed up in Oxford button ups and dress shorts. Her long, blonde hair, has been dyed black for as long as she could remember, and she stopped letting Nanny curl her hair in favor of tying it into a pony tail like Father's.

Her comfy clothes, which used to be nightgowns and t-shirts with anime characters on them, turned into hoodies and khaki shorts.

It's not that she minds dressing more tomboyish. She didn't like being put into poofy, dolly dresses either. But there was that middle ground she liked to lay in, of cat themed shirts with overalls and messy pigtails. There's also the freedom she misses, the fun of looking through her clothes and being able to put together a look that could only be described as _an adorable mess._

But none of that matters, so long as Father is happy with her, right? Except that he never is. No matter what she does to try and please him, those smiles never meet those cold, icy blue eyes. She's twelve and already burnt out, childhood wasted desperately trying to be what he wants of her instead of finding herself.

It doesn't help that she's come to realize _exactly_ what he wants of her. Or, rather, _him._

Danielle doesn't have many friends. It's hard to make them when she goes to a wretched all girl's school, where they pull her hair and remind her that her daddy doesn't love her. In a way, she's lucky that Father hardly glances at her, now that she's growing into her more feminine features. If he paid attention to how many times she had asked him for new school shoes, he'd probably realize girls had been stealing her's or filling them with rotten milk. Then he'd go on a tirade about how her passiveness is _bad for the Masters' name._

Masters' aren't weak.

Due to her lack of friends, she spends most of her time when she's home, with her cousins. Jasmine- who likes to be called Jazz and calls her _Dani_ even though that's a childish and Danielle is a beautiful name and _why can't you appreciate anything, Danielle-_ the oldest, loves to donate her old stuffed animals to Danielle. She's very...mom-like, which is nice, since Danielle doesn't really have a mom.

Jasmine is fixated on psychology, which is, while super cool, also annoying. She psycho-babbles, as her brother would put it. Danielle cant visit her without the girl trying to tell her how she shouldn't let her dad's so-called _terrible parenting_ dictate her life, to which Danielle will say that if she doesn't stop bad-mouthing Father, she'll leave. Luckily, Jasmine shuts up after that and they move on to homework.

Then, there's her aunt and uncle. Auntie Madeline and Uncle Jackson. Again, they tell her to call them _Jack and Maddie,_ but Father had raised her " _properly"_ , so that isn't happening. Uncle Jackson is what she dreams about in a father, though she'd never tell anyone that. Last thing she needs is Father learning that little tidbit. He can be so...cruel when's angry.

Uncle Jackson is excitable, joyful, and just as everyone describes him to be, a big teddy bear. Everyone, except for her dad. Father _hates_ the man, and she did too, for a while. After all, Father knows best, right?

She knows to some extent, Father is probably right. It's not right to go after your friend's crush and then marry said crush, _then_ have kids with them. That's pretty rude. But it's been _twenty years._ Couldn't Father just go and find another girl, instead of continuously chasing someone else? Clearly he did at some point, since Danielle exists, but he refuses to tell her where that woman is. The most he'll tell her is that she showed up with a newborn Danielle, dumped the baby girl into his arms, and took off.

So neither of her parents want her. Good to know.

Aunt Madeline is cool. She's super strong and taught Danielle how to make the best cookies to ever be made. Though, while both of the Fenton parents are lovely people, they, much like Father, are workaholics. They have family dinners every night, but often times they forget they have children upstairs. Not like Father does, where he just seems to not care at all, but they could put in a little more effort to bond with their children more than once or twice a month.

Still, it's far more than what Father does. Uncle Jackson plays videogames with his son, makes little crochet dolls for his daughter. Auntie Madeline, after a long day of work, will plop down on top of her son and pretend like she's just _too tired to get up._ She'll read over her daughter's notes and bring her home books from the library.

The sight of them so happy together builds a blockage in her throat, forcing her to look away any time Uncle Jackson demands hugs from his family.

Their son's name is _Daniel._ He has black hair, the exact shade Father dyes her's. His room is space-themed, much like any of the gifts Father buys her. He's two years older than her and both taller and scrawnier than herself; _that_ comment in particular from her dad made her unable to take a piece of fudge from her uncle without getting a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Father. Adores. Daniel. Absolutely loves him, cannot get enough of him. Despite the fact that Daniel is nowhere near proper, and _talks back to him,_ Father is more affectionate with that boy than he is with his own child. Danielle has had to live in the shadow of her older cousin her entire life, and he doesn't even try to get Father's attention! In fact, every time the man hugs him, something Danielle _dreams_ of, the boy groans and shoves him away, calling him a _fruitloop_ _!_

Somehow, this boy, this stubborn trouble-maker, gets all of her father's love without being anywhere near as trained to get his approval as her. And she can't even hate Daniel, because he's just so kind to her. He rests his chin atop her head while they watch movies Father says she isn't allowed to, he sends her dumb...what are they called? _Memes,_ and drags her along when Father tries to take him out alone.

The Fentons are the family she's always wanted, and will never have. Much like how Father desperately chases after Auntie Madeline and her son. It hurts to know that the quality they share the most, happes to be the one that prevents him from loving her.

She hated them in her youth, would break Daniel's toys and would back talk his parents. They were the enemy, the one thing standing between herself and the love of her Father. Now, she realizes that Daniel and Auntie Madeline never asked to be the objects of her Father's affections, nor do they seem to want his fixation at all. Auntie Madeline will often times put herself between Father and Daniel, uncomfortable with how clingy this adult man is to her fourteen year old son.

She's heard the woman arguing with her husband late at nigh when she's sleep over. Auntie Madeline insisting that Uncle Jackson have a talk with Father, because _it doesnt matter if he isn't intending to be inappropriate, he's making Daniel uncomfortable._ And Uncle Jackson will shout back, saying that Daniel has mentioned no such thing to him and that she shouldn't be projecting her discomfort onto their son.

His loyalty to her father is worse than her own. At least now, she can admit wholely that Father is...strange with Daniel. Touchy, despite hating when anyone else touches him. Sometimes she'll catch him just... _looking_ at her cousin. Staring at him like he's the most wonderful thing in the world, unblinking. It makes her shudder and she can't pinpoint why.

She knows Daniel notices this, too. When he comes over, which he only does because he worries about her, he's stiff and awkward in a way he normally isn't. He'll hide at her side, quiet and snappy when Father worms his way between them.

_"Your dad is weird," Daniel says, messing with the buttons on his now-dead controller. She's fishing through a box of cords, searching for the charger, "he showed up_ _at my school yesterday."_

_Pausing, she turns to the older child. His eyes are darting back and forth between the tv and the door her father just left through, barely having touched the snacks given to him. "What?"_

_"He showed up at my school. I told him he couldn't pick me up without a note, but since no one was paying attention they didn't stop him from doing it anyway." Daniel picks up one of the pretzles from the plate, twiddling it between his fingers. "He made me go eat dinner with him and he wouldn't stop..."_

_Retrieving what she'd been looking for, she returns to him, handing the boy the wire. "Wouldnt stop what?"_

_"...I dunno. He's weird."_

It's an unspoken thing, something everyone has elected to ignore. Why should they, when it's much easier to pretend he's just sweet, Uncle Vlad, who wants to bond with his nephew? She wishes someone would step in. Things are getting out of hand; she saw him secretly snapping photos of the boy, unnoticed to anyone other than herself. After all, she knows him best.

She wishes they could be normal. She wishes he would smile at her. She wishes Uncle Jackson wouldn't turn the other cheek when Father would take advantage of a Daniel too full of cold medicine to have the mind to push him away, when the man would pull him into his lap and press his face into his hair. She wishes she could sleep in her room without feeling like she's nothing but a replacement for something her father wants more.

Most of all, she wishes she wasn't as awful as him. A good person wouldnt be sick with jealousy, filled with anger when her cousin confides in her about her father's odd behavior. She shouldn't be keeping his secret, defending him when others point out how he breathes down the boy's neck. And she most certainly shouldn't let him get worse, keep quiet as he grows more and more fixated on having Daniel for his own.

But _if_ she's a good girl, and _if_ she lets him have this, maybe he'll see her. Maybe not. Who knows. But she's certain that if she tells, if she prevents him from gaining his goal, he'll hate her forever. He'll send her away to some troubled girl's school and call her a pathological liar. She'll never have the oppertunity to gain his love if she rats him out, so she stays quiet.

_Sickly moaning comes from the body Father carries with a softness she's never seen. Arms cradle her older cousin like he's glass, even as the child whimpers and begs for home. "Shh, shh," Father hushes, and he kisses Daniel's forhead. He looks to be in bliss, having the teen's body in his grasp, like an addict getting his hands on a fix. "I've got you, little badger. You're safe with me."_

_He's not, he never has been, but when Father looks up at her, she doesn't scream or run for the phone. She steps out of his way as he heads for the basement, one of the few places in their mansion she isn't allowed to explore. He throws a glance over his shoulder and watches as she shuts and locks the door for him, smiling, and telling her that they'll have to catch dinner together tomorrow._

It's awful. She's horrible for letting her cousin suffer so that she can have even a scrap of her father's love. Daniel screams his lungs out, sobs and begs for Father to let him go home because he misses his family and he misses the sun, he misses school, his friends. And Danielle could save him so easily. All she'd need to do is make a little phone call, or type the code into the padlock she's memorized after having had to bring him food when Father's away.

She doesn't. She can't. She's never gotten this much attention from Father, not even when she was a baby. So maybe she's just as fucked up as him, ignoring her cousin's suffering. But he's always gotten all of Father's love, even before her birth. He's been spoiled rotten by the man. Doesn't she deserve a chance at his love? And maybe, one day, Daniel will accept his place and they'll be a family. They can play videogames together again and Father can bring them snacks and he won't jolt away from the man's touch.

And Danielle, she can pretend Father isn't just keeping her sated so he can run off into that basement during his free time and indulge in...whatever he does with Daniel down there. She doesn't want to know. It's better, easier, to pretend that he's sweet, loving Father, taking care of his two children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haven't seen a fic where dani is a lil evil so i figured id try it out 👀 sorry this one is kinda dani centric, its an older fic i decided to finish so i could update SOMETHING  
> i got a bunch of shit in the works but like i said  
> kinda blah rn  
> at least im doing a bit better than i was :/


End file.
